The Shooting Star's Revenge
by Lili and RayRay
Summary: "D-Doitsu! I-I-I think you b-better get o-over here right n-now! Oh my gosh… my…my chest… it's… and my Leaning Tower of Piza, it…" GerIta, Spamano, rated for lemons and general ecchi-ness. Chapter 17: "Italy at Work"
1. The Day it All Began

**Wheeeee! My first Hetalia fanfic! :D  
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Though I'm sure many of us wish we did.  
**

* * *

"Here's to ten years," said Germany, raising his glass.

"Ten years," Spain repeated, mirroring the motion. The wine glasses clinked together and their contents were downed by the two men. "I can't believe we've both been married for ten years now!" He grinned, and a faraway look appeared in his eyes. "Ah, Lovi… Why aren't you here tonight with us? Such a selfish boy…"

"I could say the same about Feliciano," Germany muttered. The Italy brothers had forsaken their tenth anniversary celebrations in favor of a nice, quiet night at their old house. Germany and Spain were sitting on the veranda of Germany's house, sipping wine and gazing at the clear night sky. "But I suppose it's okay to go back sometimes and just reminisce. They haven't been together like that since the marriage."

"On this day, ten years ago," Spain added with a sigh. "Time passes so quickly." Suddenly an idea popped into his head, and he smirked. "Say, Germany, have you ever thought about having kids?"

Germany nearly choked on his wine. The thick, cloying smell went up his nose, sending tingles through his sinuses and making him cough even more. "W-WHAT?"

Spain laughed. "Oh come on, don't act like you've never thought about it before! Feliciano is so cute and caring, he would make a _wonderful_ mother! And I'm sure you've seen the way he looks so wistfully at babies and children—he probably wants one of his own! Hey, you'll grant him that wish, won't you?" He nudged Germany, winking.

Germany cleared his throat. "In case you haven't noticed, we're both men. How on earth would either of us conceive and—"

"That's easy! The power of mpreg fanfic will save the day!" Spain beamed.

Germany sighed. "Right." He refilled their glasses. "Well, what about you and Romano?"

Spain laughed sheepishly. "Lovi got mad at me the other day and now he won't let me touch him. It's probably what prompted him to drag Feliciano back to their old house today." He gave Germany an apologetic look. Germany waved his hand to gesture that no apology was needed.

"Well," said Spain, rising to his feet, "it may not be very likely to happen, but there's no harm in hoping, is there?" As he said so, a shooting star whizzed across the sky. "Ooh! Quick, Germany, let's make a wish!" He clasped his hands together in prayer. "Dear wishing star, I want Germany and Feliciano and Lovi and me to be able to start a family. _Gracias_! Hey, Germany, you join in too!"

Germany smiled. "No, I have a…um, bad history with shooting stars. I'll just ruin everything. Come on, it's getting cold." He accompanied Spain inside.

The shooting star laughed evilly. Here was its chance to take revenge on that stupid German for overloading his wish-granting capacity and making him crash into England's head all those decades ago.

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**Meh. Not much of a first chapter, and I can't promise it'll get any better, but stay tuned!**


	2. The Italy sisters?

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.  
Warning: Contains lewd scenes, mainly Germany being a pervert and the Italy brothers touching each other because they don't know any better. I like how China is forced to be their physician...**

* * *

Italy woke up feeling very strange indeed.

He sat up in bed with a yawn and stretched. His chest was feeling oddly heavy, like there was something attached. He looked down and stared. Then he rubbed his eyes and looked again. He gingerly touched a hand to the weird protrusions on his chest.

This time, he screamed.

He turned to his brother, who was still sleeping beside him, and started shaking him. "Nii-chan! Nii-chan!" he cried, tears of panic rolling down his face. "Ve, Nii-chan, wake up! There's something wrong with me!"

"Goddamnit, Feliciano, what do you want?" Romano snapped groggily, turning away from Italy. "Some people are trying to sleep here!" He pulled the covers over his head to blot out the noise. Then he noticed that his voice had sounded kind of strange. "Hey, Feliciano, do I sound a bit—AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" He screamed as Italy pounced on him, whimpering and sobbing. "What the hell do you want?" He turned to glare at Italy but all his anger turned into shock when he saw his brother.

Italy had breasts.

"What the fuck?" Romano shouted, jumping up. He slapped himself. "What the hell kind of a dream is this? Oh my motherfucking god—" He noticed Italy staring at him. "What?"

Italy pointed. Romano looked at his own torso.

Then he started screaming too.

* * *

Germany was making breakfast and waiting for Italy's return when the phone rang. He picked up. "Hello?"

The shrieking on the other end nearly melted his ear off. Through the garbled ruckus he managed to make out that it was Italy, panicking about something as usual. "Oi, Feliciano, what's going on? Are you okay?" _Probably just another dead cockroach on the rug_, he thought.

"D-Doitsu! I-I-I think you b-better get o-over here right n-now!" Italy sobbed. "Oh my gosh… my…my chest… it's… and my Leaning Tower of Piza, it… WAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Germany thought he heard Romano swearing in the background.

"How come your voice sounds so weird?" Germany demanded.

But Italy only burst into tears again. "DOITSUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"

Germany sighed. "Fine, I'm heading over right now." He turned off the stove and slipped on a jacket.

* * *

Romano was frantic. He had already dialed the wrong number five times and was still crying when he finally managed to phone Spain on the sixth try. "Ah, Lovi!" Antonio chirped. "How is my little darling doing?"

Spain had prepared himself for a dose of shrill yelling and blubbering. But he hadn't been prepared for the news Romano unleashed upon him:

"Get your ass over here, you fucking tomato bastard! Damn it all! Feliciano and I, w-we turned into women!"

* * *

Having calmed down a bit, Italy and Romano sat in bed, staring at each other's bodies, eyes taking in the slender waists and wide hips they sported now. Oh, and the breasts. The breasts that were drawing their eyes to them like iron fillings to a magnet. They continued looking at each other for a few minutes before Romano piped up.

"Hey, how come yours are bigger than mine?"

Italy started. "A-are they?" He looked down.

"D-damn it!" Italy squealed as Romano rudely seized his breasts. The older brother could barely cup his hands over them. "Ah… Nii-chan…sto-stop it…" His breaths came out short and heavy as Romano toyed with them curiously. "Nii…Nii-chan…oh…it…it feels good…ah…" His face was flushed and his eyes heavy-lidded as he leaned into the touch.

Romano blushed too, upon seeing Italy's reaction. "D-damn it all," he muttered, trying to hide his beet-red face, "it's not fair… why do you get bigger boobs than me…"

"Ve?" Italy made a grab for Romano's chest. Romano let out a shrill "CHIGIIIIIIII!" as his brother's hands made contact with the soft, fleshy mounds. "Ve~, they don't feel that different…" He remained oblivious to Romano's sudden arousal. "Nii-chan I don't think you need to be jealous WAAAAAAAAH!"

"You bastard!" Romano screamed, squeezing Italy in his hands until the younger brother screeched in pain. "How dare you! Goddammit, I'll teach y-you not t-to mess with…with…ah…" He softened as Italy began massaging him. "D-damn…you're right…th-this _does_ feel…good …"

And that was how Germany found them ten minutes later. Two ignorant girls innocently pleasuring each other. He'd almost had one of those nosebleeds Japan always had, but he took a deep breath and tried to control himself. Yes, that was what he had to do. Especially since the Italy brothers always slept naked. And he was getting a good view of _everything_.

When Italy noticed him, he detached his hands from his brother (ignoring the whine of protest) and ran over to hug Germany. "Doitsuuuu~~~~~~~" he purred. Germany just about lost his mind when he saw Italy skipping towards him, the curl in his hair and…and SOMETHING ELSE bouncing with each step, and felt the SOMETHING ELSE press against his chest when Italy embraced him…

He had no idea Feliciano could be so sexy.

Luckily, Germany and his vital regions were saved by the timely arrival of Spain, cooing at his "_querida_ Lovi-chan" and wrapping the poor boy/girl in a warm hug. Romano had lost all his integrity by now and was bawling noisily into Spain's shoulder. "Shh…it's ok, _mi querida_," he said soothingly. "We'll figure something out."

Germany looked at Italy—_no, wait,_ _GOOD LORD NOT THERE YOU IDIOT, EYES AWAY, QUICK_—and patted the sniffling nation reassuringly on the head once he stopped gawking at the cleavage. He took off his jacket and draped it over Italy's shoulders. (Luckily, it was big enough to conceal all the…_stimulating_ parts.) "Don't worry," he whispered, kissing Feliciano on the forehead. Then he looked at Spain. Spain looked at him. "You know what we should do?"

Spain nodded. "Phone."

"Phone!"

They leapt upon the old telephone on the bedside table while Feliciano blew his nose into the sleeve and Romano hid himself under the blanket. "Who are we calling first?" Germany asked.

"Pick a number from one to ten," Spain replied.

China, unfortunately, was Lucky Number 5. Grumbling profanities in Mandarin, he picked up the receiver. "_Wei_?"

His expression grew even more incredulous as Spain relayed the story to him. He sighed. "I knew it aru. Those two idiot brothers again…"

* * *

Romano had never felt more humiliated in his life.

He tensed as the damn dumpling bastard stuck a gloved hand between his legs. Antonio was sitting beside him trying to comfort him. Well it wasn't working. The frying-pan lady had come by with clothes and other "supplies" (as she had said with a wink) and was busy dressing up Feliciano while the potato bastard sat in a corner watching their antics. He was pretending to be nonchalant but Romano could tell that the pervert was getting turned on, particularly evident from the way he kept shifting in his seat and crossing one leg over the other (fuck, if only he had the chance to take pictures of the potato bastard in that feminine pose!). He hoped that damn man wouldn't rape Feliciano the moment they got home—then he would have Romano to answer to, yes hahahaha! He sighed with relief as the dumpling bastard finished his examination, and quickly let his skirt fall back down. Antonio was telling him how hot he looked in it but he just kicked his lover in the shins—as usual. The potato bastard finally tore his eyes away from Feliciano as the dumpling bastard gave his diagnosis.

**A/N: Wow, he keeps calling them "bastards"…**

"It's quite mysterious aru," he said, "but Italy and Romano have actually turned into real, intact, honest-to-goodness fully functional women. Aru."

The last thing Romano remembered was the ground rushing up to meet him as everything went black…

* * *

**I feel like I'm writing such an awful cliche Mary-Sue predictable story T_T**

**Oh well. Thanks for following the story so far guys~  
**


	3. I WANT MY PENIS BACK

**This is not the original paragraph. I had Italy and Romano using female pronouns before (being called "she" and "her" and so forth), but then I got to Chapter 4 and it was too difficult thinking of them as "she" all the time. They're still men at heart, right? In fact, I don't even know why I decided to make the pronoun change so here you go: an edited chapter without the female pronoun switch! **

**Also I am quite despondent over the fact that I have gotten no reviews so far /3  
**

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"Uwa~~~~~" cooed Spain. "My little Lovi is so pretty~~~~~"

Romano was sitting in Spain's lap. His head lay limply against Spain's shoulder; his eyes were still lolling around dazedly. A few lines of incoherent Italian escaped through his numb lips. Spain giggled. When his little Lovi woke up he would have a fit, but for now he would enjoy the sight of that cute little Italian in his low-cut shirt. He giggled. Oh, the fun they would have when they got home…eating churros and watching movies. (Lovi would KILL him if he tried to make any advances.) His laughter dried up in his throat, though, when he noticed that Romano had come to. "_Mi querida_," he chirped, drawing him closer. "How are you feeling?"

"I want my penis back," Romano croaked, still in shock.

"Nii-chan! You're okay!" said Italy, hugging his brother.

"Of course I'm fine, you idiot. Now get off me—wait, what's that?" Romano pushed Italy back and gaped at his frilly pink dress. He groaned. "Feliciano, have you no sense of manliness?"

"Ve…but Doitsu likes it," Italy replied. "Right, Doitsu?" Germany was trying hard not to make eye contact with either of them. He inclined his head in a tiny nod, blushing.

"I'd keep my legs together if I were you," Romano muttered darkly.

"Ve? Why?"

"…Never mind."

"By the way, Italy," said Hungary, "After breakfast I'm taking you shopping. We need to get you a bra because mine don't fit on you."

"What's a bra?"

"I told you yours were bigger!" hissed Romano, who had put on one of Hungary's without difficulty. "Damn you, Feliciano!" He blushed, embarrassed that he had gotten so jealous over such things. He was a man, damn it! A man! What did he care how big his tits were?

Hungary turned to Germany, an evil smile spreading from ear to ear. "Oh, and you must come with us too."

Germany gulped. Somehow, he had a feeling this wasn't going to end well…

* * *

The nosebleed was coming. Germany could feel it at the back of his nasal cavity, threatening to spill out. Geez. Even his nosebleeds were deciding to tease him today. He was standing awkwardly outside the fitting room of the lingerie store while Hungary…goodness knows what she was doing with Italy. He certainly didn't know, and didn't want to. (Ha! Denial…) The other women in the store were shooting him weird looks and whispering amongst one another. Italy and Hungary's conversation was floating out of the cubicle and tormenting him even further:

"This, Italy, is a bra. You wear it over your chest to support your breasts so they don't go jiggling all over the place and arouse hapless men—" She laughed, and Germany knew she was talking about him. "So. You slip the straps over your shoulders, and there's a clasp you have to do up on the back…"

"Ve, it's hard. Can I get Doitsu to do that for me?"

Hungary started laughing again. Germany felt his face grow so hot it practically melted. "Don't they have them with front closures?" he called out.

But no, Hungary was bent on making him suffer. "Where's the fun in that?" she sniveled. Germany felt something wet coming out of his nostril.

He had just dabbed away the last of the blood when Feliciano burst out of the fitting room and ran up to him in nothing but briefs and a sheer black bra with lace trim. "Ve! Doitsu, how do I look?"

The other shoppers gasped. The one other male in the store, a ten-year-old boy accompanying his mother, let out a wolf whistle. His mother hit him on the head and began reprimanding him. Germany could feel all eyes on him as he turned Italy around and marched him back to the fitting room. "Don't prance around in your underwear in front of other people!" He glared daggers at Hungary, who shot him an evil grin. "A-anyways, hurry up so I can go to work!" He shuddered at the thought of the paperwork that was probably already piling up on his desk as he spoke.

Well, it would help clear his Feliciano-polluted mind.

Hungary chose three bras for Italy. Germany didn't even bother looking at them; the sight would probably trigger dirty thoughts, and the last thing he needed now was a bunch of sexual fantasies about...about...He shook his head vigorously. No, he mustn't go there. "Well," he said, his face still red, as they exited the store under the hostile stares of the shoppers, "I hope you learned something today."

"Ve, yes!" Italy chirped. "I found out I'm a D-cup!"

Germany facepalmed.

* * *

The first thing Spain did upon bringing Romano home was kiss him on the forehead.

The first thing Romano did was knee him in the crotch. "You—you sicko!" he screeched as Spain crumpled to the floor in pain. "Trying to screw me the moment that door closes behind us! Fuck! I'm not talking to you anymore you damn bastard!" He stormed off. A moment later Spain heard a door slam as Romano disappeared into his room.

He wondered why Lovi was being so sensitive all of a sudden.

Romano propped a heavy chair against the door and sat on his bed with an angry huff. How dare that tomato bastard take advantage of this body change to do more perverted things! He lay down. Maybe this was all just a dream, and he would wake up and find himself back to normal… He closed his eyes and forced himself to go to sleep. When he woke up he would have his man parts back, yes, and these damn watermelons stuck to his chest would be gone, and he would find Feliciano making little "Ve~" noises in his sleep. He crossed his fingers and hoped.

When he woke up, dazzling white sunlight was streaming in through the gap between the curtains. It was afternoon. He touched a hand to his chest. _GODDAMMIT!_ They were still there! He was about to sit up when he noticed that the door was ajar and the chair had been pushed out of the way. Oh no.

An eerie silence hung in the room.

"Lovi~~~~~" said Spain, who had been sitting beside his bed.

Romano nearly had a heart attack. He screamed and threw a pillow at the intruder. It bounced harmlessly off his head. Spain was grinning stupidly like always, arms outstretched in preparation for an embrace. Romano batted them away. "How dare you sneak up on me, you damn pervert!" But it was no good, Spain was still coming at him, he threw another pillow that caught him full in the face this time, the Spaniard pinned his arms down, Romano swung his legs up to kick him but he dodged, damn it why was this body so weak, he struggled desperately but it was no use, Spain was kissing him, he resisted, he slid his hands over Romano's back…

And pulled him to a sitting position.

Romano blinked in confusion. What was that tomato bastard playing at now? He turned to punch his lights out, but a terrible pain suddenly shot through his lower abdomen. "_Fuuuuuuck_," he muttered squirming and writhing as it took hold. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

Spain watched his actions, smiling slyly as he realized what was wrong. "Lovi hasn't been to the bathroom all day."

"Sh-shut up, jackass!" Romano spat, blushing. He tried to stand up but the throbbing in his nether regions was too much. "Shit…"

"My, my," said Spain, an amused tone in his voice. He slid an arm under Romano's thighs and lifted him. "Let's help out Lovi's poor tortured bladder, shall we?" He carried him off bridal style, laughing as the younger man pounded him with his fists. Romano's protest was just a show; Spain could feel him trembling with the effort of holding it in. "Then we'll have lunch outside and do some gardening, _si_?" There was no response. Even the beating had subsided. Romano was hanging limply in his arms, one hand clinging to his shirt. "Lovi?" A sudden thought occurred to him. Was he…? With a jolt, Spain realized Romano was no longer tense. He started running. "Lovi! Don't you dare do that here! Look! We're almost at the bathroom! LOVIIIIIIIIIIII!"

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**End notes of unedited Chapter 3:**

**"Well, Romano did say once that he was going to piss on Spain's house. And O and I are right next to each other on the keyboard so what difference does it make whether it's "on" or "in"? Hehe.**

**I am still contemplating writing that lemon I mentioned in the summary. The problem is that I have never written one before and it'll probably suck balls...and I don't want to force you guys to sit through my crappy lemon-writing that sucks balls and tennis rackets and other things too. If Chapter 5 turns out nice and clean you'll know I failed in my mission.**

**Thanks for reading! :3"**

**Update: Still working on that lemon. I must immerse myself in more dirty thoughts before I can pull it off. Chapter 5 will contain the lemon for sure though. Might take a while, but I will persevere! D:  
**


	4. Italy's Walk in the Park

**Okay, no lemon in Chapter 5. I lied. I'm sorry. I was writing and writing and writing and suddenly I had too much material for one chapter, so I split it into two. The magic number is 6. Chapter 6 is now the ongoing project. **

**If you are continuing reading this from several days ago, first of all, thanks! And secondly, there's a note you need to read on the edited Chapter 3. If not, then you're good, proceed as usual. **

**Yeah, so, Chapter 6 is going to take a while. Still not enough dirty thoughts forming. Gosh, I'm like Japan and his anger...but what will it take to push me over the edge? D:  
**

* * *

Italy had insisted on accompanying Germany to work. Germany had tried to talk him out of it, but Italians were Italians, and stubborn girls were stubborn girls, and… He sighed. Why was he letting this happen? He was supposed to be the _seme_, wasn't he? Beside him, Italy was skipping along, Germany's briefcase in his hands, whistling and humming and singing and whatever else suited his fancy. They were entering the building, and already they had attracted quite a few stares. At Germany's office, Italy handed him the briefcase and a packed lunch. "Have a nice day Doitsu!" he said cheerfully. Germany leaned down and kissed Italy on the cheek. "Ve~" Italy jumped up and returned the gesture. He had to get on his tiptoes to reach Germany's face, even more so since he'd gotten shorter since being turned into a woman, and as he did so his breasts pressed against the man's arm. Germany couldn't help but notice how soft they were. The perverted thoughts were coming back. He blushed and pulled away. "I-I'll see you after work," he said.

"Ve, of course!" Italy beamed.

"Who's that?" said one of Germany's colleagues, after Italy had left. "Sir, you're not two-timing your husband, are you?"

"Afonso, that _was_ Italy…"

"W-what? But how?"

"I don't know either. Somebody out there is having a good laugh at our expense."

"You don't seem very panicked about this…this new development, sir."

Germany laughed dryly. "You get used to fanfiction messing with your life."

* * *

"Ve!" said Italy. "I'll make lots of pasta and surprise Doitsu when he comes home!" He unlocked the front door. "Blackie! Aster! Berlitz! I'm back!"

There was a distant rumbling as the three dogs leaped into action. Before he knew what was going on, Italy was bowled over by a Doberman. "Uwa~! Berlitz!" The dogs all jumped on him, tails wagging so hard they were ready to snap right off, slobbering over Italy's face like there was no tomorrow. "Hahahaha! Okay, okay, that's enough! Get off me! Hahahaha!" The dogs reluctantly backed up, tails still beating back and forth like a metronome on extra-super-high speed, as Italy sat up, wiping drool from his forehead. "Hey! How about I take you guys to the park?"

He was greeted with a chorus of excited barking. "Okay! Let's go!"

Italy could barely keep up with the dogs on the way there. They strained at the leash and sometimes tried to go in different directions. Italy hadn't been some incredibly mighty muscleman or something when he was a male, but now he had nowhere near enough strength to keep those hyper creatures under control. When the park came into view, Aster finally managed to break free and darted off, his leash trailing behind him. "Ah! Oh no!" cried Italy as he watched the golden retriever cross the street, causing a lot of tire-screeching and horn-honking. "Aster! Come back!"

He followed him through the grassy fields, through (yes, _through_) the fountain, and into a forested area, where he lost sight of the renegade. "Aster?" Italy looked around frantically, dripping wet and panicking as he thought of what Germany would say. "Noooooooo! Aste-r!"

"Ah, excuse me?"

Italy turned around. A young man was walking toward him. He was tall and lanky, with brown hair and a handsome face, and clad in shorts and a light blue cardigan. In his hand he held a leash, and on the other end of the leash was…

"Aster!"

Italy crouched. Aster, upon seeing him, dashed over and began licking him happily. "Thank you so much!" said Italy.

The man smiled. "I was jogging when I heard barking and this rambunctious fellow here decided to say hello," he said. "He was so fast and determined, I thought he was an attack dog or something!" He laughed.

"Oh no! Did he hurt you?" Italy cried, scanning his body for injuries. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over him today…"

"It's all right. He was quite harmless," the man replied. "Are they all yours?" He patted Berlitz and Blackie. "They're cute!"

"Actually, they're my husband's," said Italy, as the restless dogs started frolicking in circles around him. "He loves dogs!"

"Oh." For a second, the man looked a little disappointed. "W-well, I must be on my way. Gotta get home and prepare my stuff in time for my university course later."

"You go to university? What major?"

"Computer science. It's the way of the future!" The man flashed Italy a thumbs-up. "I must hurry home now. Hope to see you around!" He jogged off, waving goodbye.

"Yup! And thanks again!" Italy called after him. He turned to the dogs. "Wasn't that guy nice?"

But the dogs had already gotten bored and started dragging him off in another direction. "H-hey, wait! Stop it!"

* * *

**I forgot to add the disclaimer that Hetalia is not mine. Thanks again for reading! (Sad because no one bothered reviewing)**


	5. Insecurity meets Spain's Rapeface

**Yes! Chapter 5! The Moment We Have All Been Waiting For is coming up after this one...give or take two weeks. Thank you to my reviewers! Your feedback is important and much appreciated! I love you all!  
**

**Insert usual disclaimer here. I think it's about time I started finding creative ways of saying Hetalia is not mine.  
**

* * *

"I hate you," Spain sobbed, mopping up the mess. "It was only two steps away… two steps…"

"Shut up!" Romano shouted from the bathroom as he peeled off his soiled underwear. "That's what you get for making fun of me!" He flung his shirt aside, then assessed the bra. Underneath that weird contraption of cloth and plastic buckles were…were…he grimaced at the thought. He hooked a finger under the center panel, gulping at the feel of the warm fabric. He would make this quick. Keeping his eyes glued to the ceiling, he wriggled his arms out of the straps and pushed it down, intending to slip out of it like he would a pair of pants.

It got stuck at his hips.

"Shit!" he muttered, tugging at the bra. Despite his best efforts, however, it refused to slide down further without causing him a great deal of torment. How the hell was he going to get out of this one?

"Lovi?" Spain inquired when he heard the sounds of struggling. "What are you doing?"

"N-nothing, jackass! Leave me alone!" Romano replied.

Suddenly, he remembered the clasp on the back. Grinning triumphantly, he unhooked the bra and let it fall to the floor. Victory!

He was so caught up in his success that he forgot not to look down.

Romano bit back a cry of horror and quickly turned away. As he did, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The glimpse turned into a long hard look. He couldn't help himself; if his eyes had strings attached to them, the image before him had grabbed hold of those strings and pulled like it was trying to yank his eyeballs out. He stared. A petulant young woman glared back with shiny hazel eyes. At least that part of him hadn't changed. His hair was still brown, still in that same style—even his curl stood proudly like before. His face hadn't changed, though the curve of his brow was softer, inducing a more feminine look. His shoulders had shrunk in width; his arms had thinned as well, losing their muscular tone. He scanned his reflection, following the contours of his body as they narrowed into a small waist and then diverged to his hips. His eyes rested momentarily on his breasts, round and soft and smooth, the nipples hardening from the sudden chill, before skimming over his stomach, down to the triangle of russet hair between his legs, his plump silky thighs…

It was repulsive, now that he thought about it.

How Romano wished for his old body back! He hated this new one, hated every little aspect of it. The shorter limbs that made him continually bump into things and trip over his own feet. The way his breasts shook with every movement of his torso. Even that reedy timbre in his voice was starting to piss him off. He slumped against the wall, a mixture of frustration and resentment and embarrassment welling up in his throat. Whatever sadistic God was up there was really going to get it when he met Him, that was for sure. With a sigh, he tore his eyes from the mirror and stepped into the bathtub. Maybe a shower would clear his mind.

He ran the soap over his arms and legs and part of his belly, but left his chest and privates untouched. It was bad enough that he was cursed with this form; he didn't want to feel even worse when weird tingly feelings started coming from it. The warm water felt good against his skin; Romano could feel some of the ugly emotions dissipate as he rinsed the soap and shampoo off and toweled off. When he drew back the shower curtain, the mirror had fogged up, but seeing it there reminded him of what had gone on before. On an impulse, he decided to do something about his figure. He opened the medicine cabinet and took out the first aid kit. Opening it, he was relieved to see a roll of bandages tucked in the corner of the box. Hoping it would be enough, he unfurled it and began wrapping it around him, pulling it as tight as he could, gritting his teeth against the pain. He was feeling a bit short of breath when he reached the end of the roll, but a few twists of his upper body served to give him a bit more room. Standing up, he wiped the condensation from the mirror to examine his work.

Romano's chest was swathed in gauze, starting from under his armpits to a few inches above his navel. (He was lucky that Spain, having experienced countless grievous injuries, was paranoid enough to keep a stash of medical supplies at home.) He ran a hand over his bindings, wincing at the soreness his touch created. He'd never known that breasts were so tender, but he would have to get used to it.

At least he was flat again.

He slipped on his bathrobe and gingerly opened the door, keeping an eye out for Spain. The older man had finished cleaning and was nowhere to be seen. Romano scurried across the hall to his bedroom to get changed.

There was no way he was ridiculing himself again by wearing those panties Hungary had bought for them. (_Especially_ not the polka-dotted ones.) No, Romano was sticking to his boxers, thank you very much. He slipped on a shirt and a pair of trousers lying nearby. The shirt went down to mid-thigh and drooped at the shoulders, the sleeves extending over his palms in an annoying manner. Romano cursed. He had no idea he'd shrunk this much. He had to give up on the pants entirely; the legs were too long and kept tripping him and the only way they would stay on was by hanging uncomfortably onto his hips. With a resigned look on his face, he kicked them off and put on a pair of capris Hungary had lent him instead.

On his way down the stairs, Romano had to stop to adjust his side. The bandages were digging into his skin. He fidgeted around, trying to get the nipping pain to go away. Gosh, wearing this was harder than he expected. Centuries ago, there had been nutty nuns and mad monks—the fat ones with man-boobs—who did the same thing on a regular basis, and you'd never think they were in any sort of discomfort. They must have been really desensitized to pain, or really masochistic, or—

"Surprise!"

Romano screamed as a pair of hands came down upon his shoulders. He whirled around, ready to punch Spain in the face, but the binding restricted his movements and he sort of flopped his hand onto the Spaniard's neck instead. Moreover, the twisting motion had caused a fresh wave of pain through his upper body. He couldn't help but grimace, but luckily, Spain seemed not to have noticed. "Hey, Lovi, what say we have a picnic by the garden? You like picnics, right? And it's such fine weather today, let's not waste it! Whee!"

Which was how Romano found himself in the backyard an hour later, sitting as far away from the overly cheerful man as the red and white square cloth would allow him to go, which was not easy because Spain was right in the middle of it and sprawled all over the sheet like an amoeba, obnoxiously taking up any room he could. Well, at least the food was good, and it was cool in the shade. They were sitting under a huge tree, gazing at their garden before them. It was only a few weeks before the harvest, and he could see row upon row of reddening tomatoes gleaming in the dazzling sunlight. He nibbled his pizza, heart pounding with anticipation. It wouldn't be long now before he could savor the taste of homegrown tomatoes instead of putting up with that weird store-bought stuff.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Spain said softly.

Romano nodded.

Spain sidled up to him. There was a strange look in his eyes, and when he leaned closer Romano could smell wine on his breath. "You know what else is beautiful?"

Romano started panicking, knowing fully well what was coming next. "Get away, you drunk bastard," he growled. Spain merely laughed and pushed himself against him even more.

"Lovi, I only had one glass! And look, my face isn't even red yet!" He grabbed Romano and threw himself backwards, hitting the ground with a soft thump, the Italian lying on top of him. "Isn't it obvious that

"I

am

not

drunk?"

For a second, hazel eyes met green as Romano stared at him, unsure of what to do. Then the indignation set in. Spain laughed as Romano thrashed about in his grip. With a lightning-quick motion, he seized him by the wrists and flipped their positions so that he was now on top. Romano started yelling at him. One of the knees flailing around found its mark and drove itself deep into Spain's groin for the second time that day, evoking a groan as he sank forward and fell on Romano.

So much for that wonderful plan.

When Spain regained some of his composure, he found his lover trembling underneath him, eyes squeezed shut, breathing rapidly and shallowly with a pained expression on his face. He quickly lifted his weight off the smaller nation, muttering an apology as the latter drew a few deep breaths. Instead of shouting at him some more, Romano merely lay there lifelessly, looking up at him through tired eyes. For some reason, all the fight had gone out of him.

The Spaniard grinned and took this chance to kiss him, chuckling as his partner moaned and leaned into the kiss. He slid his hands up Romano's arms, past his slender wrists, and interlocked fingers with him. They broke apart, gasping for breath. A trail of saliva flowed down the Italian's chin. "A-Antonio…" he panted as Spain nibbled his neck.

Spain smirked. The battle was won.

* * *

**Pre-lemon and already my head feels so drained... I will work extra hard on the next chapter and get a nosebleed in the process too! Good luck to me, I guess. Hahaha  
**

**Until next time!**


	6. I Love you, Lovi

**And so! I have been working non-stop for the last two weeks, editing and re-editing and all that other non-confidence stuff that I do. Somehow I wrote over 3500 words for this chapter... Yes. It's Russia stretching Latvia out again. Replace "Russia" with "incompetent writer" and "Latvia" with "first lemon" and you'll get the gist of the situation. It's probably a terrible lemon, too. And I probably split the chapter at the worst place possible. It's still long though. Why do I fail? T_T  
**

**In fact, I spent so long on this one that several interesting and somewhat Hetalia-related things happened to me. I will share one below:  
**

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**Ah, Canada. Or should that be O Canada? In geography class, we're learning about the economy, and apparently Canada has a $555,000,000,000 debt. (The U.S. has about 28 times that amount. Don't laugh at Canada.) So, why the huge figure? And that was when things got interesting…**

**Our teacher brought out his archive of articles on useless Canadian government spending. There was so much spent on funding films, books, etc… **

**Which would be normal, except: a) Hel-lo! What about the debt? And b) Most of the titles the teacher didn't even read out because they weren't school-appropriate…**

**O Canada, you closet pervert. XD**

* * *

"Antonio…" Romano moaned, shuddering as a hand stroked the curl on his head. "Stop—stop it…a-ah…"

Spain grunted in reply, his face buried in the crook of his lover's neck. He bit down on the soft flesh and smiled in satisfaction at the yelp he evoked. He pulled away, straddling Romano's delicate hips. Romano's head was tilted back, exposing his throat. He traced a finger along the ridge formed by the windpipe, feeling it shift as its owner bit back cries of pleasure. His hand stopped at the collar. The shirt was in the way. Spain considered the situation for a moment, then began undoing the buttons.

Romano suddenly remembered what he was hiding underneath. "Ah! No!" he exclaimed, jumping up and covering his arms over his chest. He couldn't let Spain see him in this state. The bastard would pester him with those annoying questions of his and then make fun of him once he found out the truth. He got up to leave but Spain had grabbed hold of his ankle. As he fell, the older man caught him in his arms, and Romano yelled in indignation as he felt a pair of hands grope his chest. "You—!" They had toppled forward again, Romano squashed against the ground with Spain's fingers digging into his ribs. With great difficulty, he whirled around, his eyes watering from the pain, ready to bite the tomato freak's head off, but there was concern in Spain's eyes and he couldn't bring himself to do it. He could only lie there scowling as Spain murmured consolingly while unbuttoning his shirt. Spain stopped when the bandages came into view. He stared at them for a minute before he spoke.

"Lovi?" His voice was shaking. "A-are you okay?"

Romano decided he'd had enough.

"Of course I'm not, you dumbass!" he snapped. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you so much!" There was a lump in his throat. He knew he was about to cry, but he didn't care. "Son of a bitch! I wake up this morning in this goddamn body, I have no idea what the hell is going on, I've got these god-awful tumors on my chest, this body does the most embarrassing things imaginable, and what are _you_ doing? Taking it easy as always? Like this is some walk in the park, or a shopping trip with that damn Feliciano, or eating out! Heck, you're even trying to rape me right now! I don't want you to see me like this! Bastard! But, what do you care? You'll never understand how it is!" Tears blurred his vision as he continued shouting. "Spain, I hate you! Jackass! Inconsiderate jerk! I'll curse you, damn it! Damn it…"

"Lovi—"

"Shut up! Quit calling me that!"

Confusion crossed Spain's face. "Lovi…"

"Go away!"

To his surprise, Spain straightened up. "You're right," he said resignedly, an apologetic look on his face. "I haven't been considering how you feel at all. I'm sorry. I've been selfish." He helped Romano up and offered him a napkin to wipe his tears. "Maybe I was a bit inebriated after all, eh?" he quipped, laughing weakly. "A-anyway, I apologize for not thinking about you. I guess I should leave you alone for a bit, so you can adjust." He moved over a little to give Romano more space and smiled. "Let's start over, Lovi."

Romano was starting to feel guilty about yelling at Spain. The man had only acted in Romano's best interest, after all. Now that he thought about it, Spain had been there for him from the beginning, trying his best to comfort him. (Well, okay, that most recent development was debatable, but still.) And what had he done? He'd resisted him every step of the way, even going so far as to throw a temper tantrum. Thinking back now, they'd been rather… 'deprived' for several weeks—before today, Romano himself had been quite frustrated. No doubt Spain was feeling the same way, perhaps even more so with all that lovely young female flesh suddenly thrown before him. He sneaked a glance at Spain, who was sitting there cross-legged, humming to himself.

With a raging hard-on straining at his pants.

Romano quickly looked away, blushing. What should he do? He could just take care of Spain's, er, problem, but then what? Then that horny bastard would—No! No! He wouldn't think about it! His face was so hot, he could fry an egg on it. He tried to divert his attention to something else, but no matter what sort of distraction he came up with, he found that his eyes kept drifting back to Spain. How lonely he looked. Romano shuffled uneasily. He was starting to feel strange down there. There was a weird wet feeling between his legs. He glanced over at Spain. Still sitting there. Still humming. He grimaced. Why did things always have to end up like this?

He approached cautiously. "Um…" He plucked at Spain's sleeve. He wanted to go and take a running jump into the tomato field and bury his head in a molehill and never face those bright green eyes again. "L-let's do it," he stammered. Forget the egg; his face could fry enough burgers to feed that glutton America for a whole week.

Spain gaped at him. "Huh?"

Romano felt a twinge of annoyance. "Tch!" he grumbled, then pressed his lips against Spain's. If words didn't reach that dumb jerk, then he would use actions. He leaned forward, forcing Spain down, and while one hand tugged the Spaniard's shirt off, the other slid under his pants. A shudder ran through Spain's body as Romano brushed his hand against his erection. They pulled apart, gasping for breath. Spain giggled. "Haha! I knew I was irresistible!" He flashed a grin at Romano, who only got pissed off and headbutted him. Then he kissed him again.

"Mm… Lovi's being so affectionate today," he remarked as they broke the kiss. Romano glowered at him, but he laughed it off. Kissing was Lovi's way of apologizing. He watched the Italian tug clumsily at his belt. Then a better idea came to mind.

Romano screamed as Spain suddenly jumped on him and began undressing him. "You bastard!" he cried, and was about to continue when Spain began fiddling with his curl. "A-ah… Antonio…" he gasped. "B-be gentle…"

Spain chuckled. "So this still works then," he said, twirling the hair around his finger. Romano clasped his hands over his mouth to keep from crying out.

"Idiot! Of—of course it works! I-it's been working since… long before… that… that time you… made me jizz in front of all… those… people!" His expression darkened as the memory came back to him.

"Eh? Oh, that time. Hahahaha. You know, I still feel bad about that…" Spain recalled the time he'd absentmindedly played with Romano's curl until the poor boy had an orgasm in front of the guests Spain had been entertaining. (Oh, they were entertained, all right...) It was how he'd found out about that erogenous zone. "But," he said, "I'll try and make it up to you." He let go of the curl. Romano was quivering from all the abuse it was receiving. He whipped his head out of the way as Spain reached out for it again.

"I thought I said be gentle, you jerk!"

"Ah! Yes, yes; I'm sorry," said Spain, smiling sheepishly. "I'll try."

He started by taking Romano's shirt off, revealing the slight shoulders and slender arms. The bandages were fastened rather tightly, but a hard yank made quick work of them. He rubbed Romano's stomach soothingly while peeling away the white bands of cloth, apologizing for the discomfort he had caused. The gauze had barely been loosened when Romano suddenly grabbed his hand. He glanced up. The Italian was glaring at him, a hint of fear marring his expression. He smiled reassuringly at him and tried to continue, but Romano squeezed his hand even tighter. "Lovi?" the Spaniard inquired, bewildered by his lover's actions. "Is everything all right?"

Romano sat up. The bandages pooled around his hips, and Spain sucked in his breath at the sight of his round, pert breasts. He reached out to touch them but Romano shrank away from him and hurriedly threw his shirt back on. Disappointment weighed heavy in his chest. Had Lovino changed his mind?

"Antonio… I…I… I'm sorry…"

This was it, then. Spain tried to cheer himself up with thoughts about his imminent alone time in the bathroom but found they only made him even more depressed.

To his surprise, Romano pressed himself against him, nearly knocking him down. A soft moan escaped from the younger nation's throat as their bodies rubbed together. Spain groaned in reply, feeling a hand drift to the bulge in his pants. He wrapped his arms around Romano's waist and pulled him even closer. "It's okay," he said, trying to keep his voice steady as the latter stroked his shaft. "Don't force yourself to have sex if you don't want to."

"B-but…" Romano tugged Spain's jeans down. "I _want_ to… I just…" He blushed. "I don't want you to look at my body," he mumbled.

"Ah…is that so…" Spain chuckled. "You know I'll love you no matter how you look, Lovi…"

"But still!"

Spain winced as Romano's hand tightened around his length in distress. "L-let go," he managed to choke out, struggling in the Italian's grip. Romano relaxed his hand and sent him an apologetic look as Spain pushed him back a little to look him in the eye. "It's fine; I understand. You're not obligated to show yourself to me naked." He smirked a little at the image of the female Romano with no clothes on. "I guess that will come when you're more comfortable with your body. For today, though, I guess I won't be seeing what _mi querida_ looks like down there. All right then, what do you want me to do?"

"I w-want you to…to…m-m-make love to m-me, you jerk."

Spain stared at him.

Romano looked back uncertainly.

Finally, the Spaniard spoke. "Oh my god! Lovi you're so cute with that tsundere face~~~~~~~~~~!" He wrapped his ward in a hug, ignoring the screams of protest. "Acting tough, as usual! That's the Lovi I know! He hasn't changed much, has he?" He turned his head to look at Romano, whose expression had grown solemn upon hearing his words.

"Has he?"

"…I suppose not," the Italian muttered.

Spain laughed. "I love you, Lovi," he said, nuzzling Romano and receiving a lick to his cheek in reply. "No matter what."

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**Reviews make me happy.**

**And so, that was Part I of the Lemon that Never Ends (Oh joy! D: ). Part II is...is...oh, just wait and see.  
**


	7. Lemon, Part II

**Part II. I still feel like it was split in a bad place...**

**And after this, I'm already halfway through the next chapter. Had two weeks' worth of trouble with this, but at last, I jumped over the roadblock! Or maybe kind of ran into it and tore my way across, trailing bits and pieces of roadblock behind me. It's like story constipation or something. Anyway, I'm working it out, so the fic will go on!**

**Insert disclaimer here.  
**

* * *

_Spain laughed. "I love you, Lovi," he said, nuzzling Romano and receiving a lick to his cheek in reply. "No matter what."_

_Romano huffed. "Hurry up, bastard." He looked away so the older man couldn't see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips._

Spain figured it out anyway, but pretended not to notice. "Now, this," he took the waistband of Romano's pants, "I'm not cutting a hole in it so you'll let me take it off, yes?"

He cried out in surprise as he was seized by the neck. "No—more—stupid—questions—you stupid prick!" Romano headbutted him, then kicked his pants off as quickly as he could. Spain smirked as the boxers followed suit. Lovi was getting desperate; his legs were shaking as Spain slipped his hand into the heat between them. "Chigiiiiiii!" he cried when a finger pushed its way into his opening. "Antonio! It hurts!"

Spain felt the warm wet walls contracting spastically around his finger. Romano held on to him tightly, resting his head on his shoulder, howling in pain as the Spaniard wriggled his finger deeper into him. "Shh… Lovi," Spain half-whispered, "relax your muscles. It'll hurt less." He stroked the younger country's hair soothingly, humming softly to calm him down. Slowly, the spasms subsided, and the loud cries were reduced to whimpers. Romano let out a long sigh and his grip on Spain. While he was relaxed, Spain took the chance to insert another finger, scissoring them back and forth so they went inside more easily. Rivulets of sticky juices trickled down the back of his hand as the Italian moaned, bucking his hips from the stimulation. "How does it feel?"

"Better…" Romano cracked open a tear-filled eye. "I've never felt it this deep before." He winced as Spain began moving his fingers again.

"Haha… Look at Lovi's innocent face! I wonder if this counts as taking your virginity a second time." He drooled at the thought.

"Sick, perverted old man!" Spain braced himself for a blow to the head, but instead felt hands fiddling with his belt. "Can we get this done with already so I can go back to hating your guts!" Romano glared at him, his blush flaring up again.

"Sheesh! Such an impatient boy," Spain chided, letting his digits slide out of him with a wet sound. He licked his fingers with the fastidiousness of a cat, and Romano felt his breath hitch in his throat as he realized where the fluid had come from. He watched Antonio lap up the fat droplets, feeling more running down his legs. Before he knew it, he was sucking on Spain's hand. There was a strange flavor to the salty trails on the skin, and a faint musky odor that lingered unpleasantly in his mouth, but he tried to ignore it and continued licking his juices from the hand, along with Antonio. Their tongues met. A mischievous glint flashed in Spain's eyes. He planted a kiss on Romano's lips, then leaned in and licked his nose, laughing as the smaller nation yelped and hastily wiped it. It was so worth the slap he got in return. "Ah, Lovi, you're so cute," he giggled, clutching his burning cheek. Romano snorted.

Spain placed his hands on the Italian's hips. "Lean on me," he suggested. Romano complied as the former guided him into position. He let out a small whine when he felt he felt the tip of Spain's member prod his entrance. "Lovi, it's going in." He gritted his teeth and nodded, burying his face in his husband's shoulder. He wondered how that jerk's dick would even fit, considering how filled he'd felt with just one finger in there. His fears were confirmed when Antonio pushed in a bit deeper and a searing pain suddenly erupted. Choking back a cry, he dug his chin into the nape of the Spaniard's neck. It hurt, it hurt so much… Why was Antonio dragging this out for so long… He rammed his hips down, bracing himself for the agony that ensued.

"Ngh!" Spain grunted as his cock was engulfed entirely. God, it was so warm and tight… Romano was rocking back and forth, shuddering violently, a mess of noises rising in the back of his throat. He opened his mouth to speak—and sputtered spit down the older man's back instead. Spain ran a hand through his soft brown hair as another wave of tremors hit. "Lovi… Lovi… Let's slow down a bit," he said worriedly. Romano coughed and sobbed into his shoulder. Each time he tensed up his walls clenched around the throbbing member, making Spain moan and bite his lip from the effort of holding back. Stars swam in his vision. He was at his limit. Screw the Italian (literally…), his body screamed at him, he wanted to—_had_ to—reach that happy place.

He laid Romano down on the picnic cloth as gently as he could (he found himself starting to shake too from the anticipation). Fortunately, the boy seemed to have calmed down a bit. His ragged breaths had given way to steady gasps and he had stopped crying. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, as though he had slipped off into some faraway place and left his body there. As his shirt slipped from the change in position, exposing his stomach and the valley between his breasts, he squealed and frantically began buttoning it. One of the little pieces of plastic was wrenched off by his fingers' convulsive movements, but he managed to fasten one closure over his sternum, so at least his nipples wouldn't show. Not that they weren't visible anyways; the sight of those erect little nubs poking out from the fabric made Spain want to lick and suck and taste them. But then Lovi would never trust him again… He settled instead for a kiss to the forehead, smiling as he watched the nation struggle out of his stupor and slowly trudge back to reality. "_Bentornati_," he whispered when the hazel eyes locked on his green ones.

"_Stai zitto_."

"Lovi, you're so mean~~~~~"

"_Spingi_."

"Huh?"

"_Subito_."

"What? Slow down! It's like you're speaking in some other language!"

"_Io ti amazzerò_."

Spain laughed. "_Sto solo scherzando…_" He planted another kiss on the Italian's lips.

"AH!" Romano gasped as Spain complied with his demand. "You—have—a—te—terrible—accent!" he wheezed in rhythm to the Spaniard's thrusts.

Spain pretended to be mortified, which was hard to do when his entire body felt hot and flustered and he was gasping for breath. "Li—lies!" he countered, feeling drool leak out of his open mouth onto Romano's shirt, but not even bothering to contain the mess because the pleasure was overriding his brain. "_Pa—parlo be—ne—l'ita—li—l'italia—no!_"

"You suck! You—you—ah—faster!" From the sound of it, Lovi wouldn't hold out much longer either, Spain thought as he quickened his pace.

Suddenly he stopped. "Oh! I forgot!" he exclaimed. "The condoms are upstairs!"

Romano wailed in frustration. "Fuck the condoms! Keep going!"

"But then, you're a girl now! What if I get you pregnant?" said Spain, careful to avoid saying it the other way round ("What if you got pregnant") in case he got accused of blaming everything on the Italian.

"Fuck! I don't care! Just do it!" He paused. "You bought condoms?" Another pause. "You BASTARD, you were planning this from the start? WHAT THE HELL! OH MY GOD what the FRICK is this it's a CONSPIRACY against me gosh I HATE you right now how DARE you plan things behind my back GOOD LORD I will GET YOU for this you son of a bitch, and your little dog too FUUUUUUCCCKKKK why do things always turn out this way I am SICK AND TIRED of being bested and—aaaaaaahhhh!"

Spain continued thrusting, looking away in shame. Unfortunately, it was the only way to shut Lovi up.

"—and wh-what's this? Y-you—are—trying to a—appease—me—n-now? Ah! S-screw you! H-how dare you—nnnnh—you—think of—me—as s-some—kid—hyuh—who can be—be—yaaaaah—bought—with sweets! Ah… L-listen to me—ngh—when I'm—speaking—unh—to you, you—hah—damn BASTA—A—ARD!"

He sensed an incredible display of anger later. Things never turned out well when Lovi managed to resist.

"Son of a—aaah! Can't—believe you would—ugh—go out and—buy—condoms while—ah—I was sleeping! Ah! I bet the—the—ah—guy—at the counter—ngh—had a good laugh—when he—saw you! Hah… hah… hah… This—kind of _loser-face_—ah—can actually—unh—get laid? He m-must've—been—ah—thinking that! Tomato-freak! AAAAAAAAAAAAANH!"

He prayed that there wouldn't be a lot of furniture broken this time.

"Dickhead! Asshole! Agh! You—will—p-pay—for this! I—nnh—swear it! Oh god! Antonio! Harder! H-harder! Damn it—it—feels—so—good! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! I love you! I love you! Antonio, do you hear me? Antonio!"

Well, this was new.

Spain wondered what he should do, but somehow he couldn't think straight. Placating the fiery little nation didn't seem as important anymore, not when he was coming, he was almost there, a few more pushes should do it, he heard Lovi sputtering and thrashing about beneath him, his cock was being gripped so tightly, or maybe it was because he had gotten harder, he didn't know, but he didn't care either, the tension in his pelvis was building, he was vaguely aware of Romano's fingernails scoring painful tracks along his back, his body was on fire, he—

"L-Lovino!" Spain groaned as he came. Pleasure flooded his senses and overflowed into Romano as he filled the latter with his seed, shaking from the force of his orgasm. Lovi was screaming and yelling as he reached his own climax. How noisy he was being… Spain engulfed the Italian's mouth in his, and drove his member into him a few times for good measure before pulling out. Cum spattered across Romano's thigh and stomach as he rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around the smaller country. They lay there, gasping and panting, until Spain broke the silence. "Was it good?"

Romano blushed. "S-stupid, don't ask questions like that!" He turned around and faced his back to the Spaniard. "Pervert…"

"Lovi~~~~" Spain cooed, hugging him. "You're so cute when you're angry—"

Romano elbowed him in the gut.

"Ack! Lovi…" As Spain curled into fetal position he noticed that Romano had turned around again and was glaring at him. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing, dammit!" His face turned scarlet. "Just…just… um… In—in this state I can't top you anymore, can I?" He scowled.

"Ahahahahaha! How cute~~~~!" Spain planted a kiss on Romano's forehead, laughing as the latter turned away in embarrassment. A dark look flashed in his eyes. "If you join me in bed tonight I'll teach you how…"

"You—!" With a cry of fury, Romano jumped on top of him. "Like hell I will! Sick-minded, evil, immoral bastard!" But Spain was no longer paying attention; he was watching the thick white line slowly creeping down the Italian's thigh. When Romano realized this, he began pounding Spain's chest repeatedly with his fists. "Pervert! Pervert! You good-for-nothing pervert! I hate you! Why did you have to come so much! How am I supposed to clean this up? Gah! Damn you, Spain! You made me bleed! _SPAGNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!_ I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

Spain laughed. "How energetic he's being today…"

* * *

**Bentornati—Welcome back**

**Stai zitto—Shut up**

**Spingi—Thrust**

**Subito—Right now**

**Io ti amazzero—I'll kill you**

**Sto solo scherzando—Just kidding**

**Parlo bene l'italiano—I speak Italian well (Lies, Spain… -.-)**

**Dio mio-My God  
**

**I hope those translations were accurate. I don't trust Google Translate but I need it for phrases, and WordReference is a mess of multiple definitions and translations and stuff. I was very lucky that French and Italian are compatible enough for me to figure out how the verbs should be conjugated. I think…**

**

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**

**This year, my geography teacher's other class had a mock Copenhagen Conference (the meeting the countries held December of last year to discuss climate change). The desks were arranged into rows and each one had a country's name taped on it. So we took the liberty of choosing our seats as we pleased. Interestingly:**

**The China guy was into cute moe randomness. I don't know if this includes Shinatty-chan but it's highly likely. Unfortunately, he has no cooking skills at all whatsoever.  
**

**The Sweden guy was a smart, stoic person.**

**The Italy guy was being goofy with the Germany guy.  
**

**The Canada seat was empty.**

**Sweden was being uncharacteristically friendly with UK and US (and for some strange reason UK and US were getting along very well too...). Poor Finland wasn't there to watch his 'husband' two-time.  
**

**Ethiopia and Egypt were having a nice friendly chat.  
**

**There was a South Korea seat that I kept wishing was filled by one particular guy (unfortunately, he took History and not Geo) who once groped the China guy's chest.  
**

**Hetalia. Making classroom situations everywhere hilarious. **

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Reviewing helps alleviate my story constipation~  
**


	8. Prussia Speaks Morse Code

**Three chapters in one day. Unbelievable. I pray it never happens again. I've run out of things to say in my A/N's...  
**

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Prussia swore. He'd been stalking that stupid Austrian when all of a sudden a kid on a bike had come out of nowhere and run over him… twice. The second time happened when the kid came back to apologize and lost control of the brakes. And now he'd lost sight of his target, damn it all. He took a shortcut through the park, trying to figure out where Austria could be, when all of a sudden he heard someone calling his name. He perked his ears. Who was that? It sounded so familiar, and yet foreign at the same time. He had just turned around when the someone jumped him, smushing his face into—_OH MEIN GOTT IT WAS—_

"Ve, Prussia!" Italy chirped. The dogs circled Germany's older brother excitedly. "Look! Look! I'm a girl!"

Prussia gaped. He pointed a shaky finger at him. "N-no way…" He squeezed Italy's boobs, much to the chagrin of several people nearby. One old lady yelled at him about indecency while covering her grandchild's eyes. "No! I refuse to believe it!" He unbuttoned the Italian's dress. Now the passers-by were screaming. His jaw hit the ground at the sight of the Valley peeking out between the bra cups. No, they were not some prosthetics his _bruder_ made the little brunette wear as part of some strange fetish. They…were…_attached_ to his chest. _ATTACHED!_

"Noooooooo!" he shrieked, rubbing Italy's _other_ place in horror. It was gone. Gone. _GONE!_

The whole time, Italy stood there, staring blankly at him.

And then, it was like something within him just snapped. Suddenly the world dissolved away in a jumble of colors and noises. "H-ha…haha…" One sound was particularly loud. It was a voice, but he couldn't make out who it was, or what it was saying. A jolt went through him as a pair of hands landed on his shoulders, but strangely, he couldn't feel them, everything was just a blur of bubbles and sugar and England's stupid unicorns and—

"Prussia! Are you okay?" Italy was shaking him by the shoulders.

Prussia snapped back to reality. "_Mein Gottttttttttttttttttt_-" he screamed, seizing the younger nation by the arms. "What happened to you?"

"Ve-!"

"Oh, you poor yet unbelievably adorable thing! It's okay! Your awesome Big Brother Preussen will make everything better!" He wrapped a stunned Italy in a bone-crushing hug. "Who did this? That witch England? That little [BEEP]! That son of a [BEEP]ing [BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP]! I'm going to tear off his [BEEP] and shove them right up his [BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP] and then [BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP] on his [BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP] with [BEEP BEEP BEEP] in the [BEEP BEEP] and [BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP] his [BEEP BEEP BEEP] so then he'll have to [BEEP] sideways… [BEEP]!"

Italy stared. "I didn't know you speak Morse code, Prussia…" **A/N: See endnotes**

"Huh? Yes, I suppose I do! Because I am so awesome and all. But it was England, right?" His face clouded over with rage. "It can only be him!"

"I don't know! When I woke up this morning, I was already like this, and Nii-chan too!"

"What? Him too? Poor Antonio…" Regular Romano was hard enough to deal with, but now it would be a temperamental female on a great-huge scary hormonal rage. He shuddered at the thought. Not awesome, not awesome at all.

Italy cocked his head. "Ve?"

Prussia snapped back to reality. "A-ah, no, it's nothing!" he said hurriedly. Innocent minds had to be protected! Even if Feli wasn't very 'innocent' anymore, not since his _bruder_ brought out the whip and the handcuffs… and the rope, and the vibrator, and goodness knows what other weird toys the man had in his closet!

And he'd heard that sometimes Ludwig wasn't the one using them.

He tried to throw the image of a sneering seme Italy out of his mind as he looked into the big brown eyes. There was no way this sweet child could do those sorts of things…right?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Right. Yes. It had to be so.

"U-um…" he started, then thought of something to say. Something, _anything_… "What say I treat you to some gelato, Feliciano?" He flashed him a smile.

Italy immediately brightened up. "Okay!"

"Great! Let's go right now!" He took the country by the hand. "Oh, and please don't tell West I… well… kind of molested you…"

* * *

England was half-expecting it to be the Queen (that old chatterbox) when the phone rang. He picked up. "Good day, your Majesty," he said as politely as he could, given that he'd had a long talk with her only yesterday and the old hag was running up his phone bills (damn it!).

"…ahen?"

"Whoa!" England felt his face go red. That wasn't the Queen! "It's you, China."

"You sound disappointed ahen."

"Don't I always? According to you lot anyways. Wait, why are you calling?"

"Have you been up to any… sorcery, lately?"

"…Why do you need to know that."

"Because…"

England's jaw hit the floor as China recounted what had happened to the Italy brothers—or rather, sisters. "Th-that's amazing! How'd that happen? I want to know the spell they used—I mean, Oh no! How'd that happen? It defies the laws of physics! I mean biology! But wait, are there any?"

"Judging from your reaction, you had nothing to do with it ahen."

"Why would I? They're annoying but I wouldn't turn them into girls…Bloody hell, they'd become even more irritating! No, this sounds like the work of someone who would actually enjoy seeing those two bumbling idiots whine and throw temper tantrums and bleed on the carpet once a month and whatever other nonsense it is that women do. Someone who hates the Kraut and that stupid grinning git. Or at least one of them, because Italy and Romano are a package deal. Someone who eats frog's legs and blue cheese! And is a pervert. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"You want to blame France."

"Yes, that's precisely it! I'm sure he wouldn't hesitate to transform them, especially if it makes the view at the world conferences a lot prettier… However, I'll ask the fairies if they've seen anything suspicious lately."

"Um, okay." It was unbelievable how that crazy Brit still believed in those imaginary things… "W-well, I guess I will call France then. Um, good luck with the fairies… I suppose." China wondered if England was schizophrenic, or maybe snapping from the stress of being bullied by Scotland. "Have a nice day ahen."

"Ah, yes, you too—ahahahaha! Stop it! You're tickling me, Flying Mint Bunny!"

China quickly hung up.

* * *

**Prussia is referring to a Yu-gi-oh the Abridged Series episode where Yami says it, except it was directed at Yugi. The Hetalia-friendly version can be found in styPro66's Youtube video "Hetalia Awesome Randomness! 6 (APH)" from 0:50 to 1:08. XD  
**

**Thanks for reading!  
**


	9. The Mysterious Spot in the Sky

**Well, over here we've reached the semester break (a four-day weekend for us IB students, and a seven-day one (BAH HUMBUG) for the non-IB people). Those lucky bastards. **

**I might update faster since I have 4 days off. Ugh. How I wish I were non-IB D:  
**

* * *

"Uwa, look at the stars, Sealand! They're so pretty!" Finland pointed at the night sky. He, Sweden and Sealand had gone for a walk in the park and stopped for a while to stargaze. There was little room on the park bench, but for some reason, he was sitting on Sweden's lap, and the micro-nation was seated beside them, instead of Sealand sitting on Sweden or Finland. And Sweden refused to let go of him. "D-don't you think so too, Su-san?"

"Mm," Sweden replied.

"There's so many!" Sealand remarked. "And they're so tiny. They must be really far away!"

Finland chuckled. "Yes, they are! Millions of miles away, in fact. Hey, I'll show you some constellations!" He took Sealand's hand and traced the shape of a soup ladle by connecting lines between the stars. "See those ones? They make up _Ursa Major_. And that one over there is _Ursa Minor_. The names are in Latin. They're called the "Big Bear" and "Small Bear" because people a long time ago thought they looked like bears! But today many people call them the Big Dipper and Little Dipper. I think America had something to do with it…" He led Sealand's hand to another spot on the sky. "And that's—eh?" He dropped his hand in confusion. There was an extra pinpoint of light, right next to Orion's belt. "That's weird… that one wasn't there before…"

* * *

As usual, Italy pranced into the bedroom naked after his shower. Germany felt blood rush to his sinuses and _elsewhere_ as the Italian dove into bed with a happy "Ve!" The only thing keeping red stains from his pillowcase was the fact that Italy hadn't snuggled up to him like he always did. To tell the truth, he was a bit disappointed, but he told himself that Feliciano needed time to adjust to the changes. Yes, the kinky stuff would come later, when his happy-go-lucky _liebeling_ stopped tripping over his own feet and bumping his hip into table corners and the backs of chairs and getting stuck in the gaps between furniture because he'd miscalculated his proportions. (It had taken ten seconds for Italy to wedge himself between the wall and the fridge and half an hour of pulling and chafing to get him out.) Smiling reassuringly to himself, he turned his back to Italy. Maybe Feli wouldn't want himself to be looked at. The no-clothes thing was merely because of the summer heat, after all. He had just settled comfortably when he felt Little Germany begin to make its move.

Oh darn.

And then Italy turned around and wrapped his arms around his waist. He stiffened. So did Little Germany. Italy was pressing himself against his back. Suddenly things got awkward.

"Ve!"

Awkward. Awkward. Awkward.

"Ve! Ve! Ve!"

Still awkward.

"Ve~~~~~~~"

Finally Germany snapped. He gently pried Italy's fingers apart and got out of bed. "I'm sorry, Feli," he said with a wan smile as he shuffled uncomfortably to the bathroom. _Sorry I got excited; you're still not used to your body, so I'll take care of things myself._

Italy watched Germany leave the room. "Ve…" The bed felt cold and empty without Doitsu. Why had he left? Was he angry? Italy quickly thought of all the things he did that could've made Germany angry. He'd made pasta for dinner again… for the tenth day in a row. He'd made Doitsu help him take his clothes off because his fingers were a different shape and had thrown his hand-eye coordination out the window. And then he'd… hugged him? But he always did that, and Doitsu never seemed to mind. What was different today? Maybe he was just in a bad mood? Yes, that had to be it! _Please_ let that be it…

He went over all the possible reasons Doitsu could have for disliking him. He didn't think any of them were at play here. But, as he lay down and buried his head under the sheets, facing his back to Germany's side of the bed, he knew he was just trying to deny the biggest issue at hand. His eyes stung with tears. Did Doitsu dislike women? Did he dislike Italy, now that he was female?

When Germany returned, Italy closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. The German did not approach him even once.

* * *

The shooting star was beside itself with anger. How the hell had it managed to screw up again?

It was supposed to turn the stupid German into a girl, damn it! But someone up there must have hated its guts, because it completely missed its target and ended up hexing that adorable little Italian instead. And everywhere that adorable Italian went, his brother was sure to go… sorry for the Mary Had A Little Lamb parody. (Now all we need is for Romano to follow Italy to school one day. XD)

Argh! And to top it all off, it was running low on stardust. No more spells for a long time!

Fuming, it kicked itself with its stubby little points/limbs. Why did things always go wrong?

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen," said head scientist at an American observatory, "we have gathered here to day to answer one of life's most important questions."

The other astronomers waited in anticipation as the head scientist pulled down a star chart. On it, rudely scribbled, was an extra white dot. "Here we have an updated star chart, as of today." The head scientist lashed out with his pointer. He accidentally jabbed a hole in the chart right where the dot was. The others stared apprehensively. The head scientist seemed agitated.

"What the hell is that?" he shrieked. Panic rippled through the group of scientists. "And don't give me your 'weird things happen because the universe is expanding' crap!"

"Then there's only one other answer!" cried America, who just so happened to be there because he's a hero and heroes always show up when mysterious things happen. (Or it could've been because he was showing off the awesome observatory to his bro Canada—where was that boy anyways?)

The scientists turned to him, chattering excitedly. Surely their wonderful Country had the answer to all their problems!

"Yes," America continued, ignoring Canada standing beside him tugging at his sleeve, "it must be aliens!"

* * *

**Tony looks up hopefully. "Grandpa?" XD**

* * *

**And so! After Chapter 10 I will be updating based on whether or not I get reviews. Man, I feel like such a dickhead for doing this. But if I don't and no one ever reviews, I'll feel like an utter failure/loser/even bigger dickhead instead T_T**

**Sorry guys. And thanks to those who have already reviewed. Until next time! :'D  
**


	10. Day 2: The Nightmare Continues

**Chapter 10. This 4-day break really is working, see? Already another chapter out. I'm still jealous of those 7-day break jerks though.**

**Remember, R & R for the next chapter.  
**

**Happy news: in compensation for the no-reviews-no-chapter policy, I'm making the chapters longer. Please don't be mad at me anymore! If you weren't before, please don't start being mad! T_T**

* * *

When Spain opened his eyes he was greeted with the most marvelous view he'd seen since the purple sunset several weeks ago. No, it wasn't the sun peeking out from the clouds to herald a brand new day. No, it wasn't the field full of ripening tomatoes that his bedroom window overlooked. It wasn't even Lovi's peaceful sleeping face lying right beside his, though that was very beautiful too. He let his eyes wander down Romano's body.

Thank goodness for button-up shirts.

Not that the buttons were of much use here. In fact, it was their lack that made the situation rather interesting. A few were undone, exposing the tops of Romano's breasts. Spain stared hungrily at the point where Romano's cleavage disappeared under the white fabric. Only a few infernal plastic knobs stood between him and Ultimate Bliss. The path there would be treacherous, but the payoff was worth it… He snuck his hand over and stealthily popped open the buttons.

He was on the third one when a pair of hazel eyes suddenly snapped open and glared angrily at him.

Spain was in for it now. But he smiled cheerfully and withdrew his hand slowly, as though retreating from a growling dog. "_Buenos días, Lovinito,_" he said.

Romano made a spitting motion at him and turned his back to him. "Pig."

"Aww, but you were pretending to be asleep! That's not fair, Lovi!"

"Go to hell, jerk."

Spain chuckled. "If by 'hell' you mean 'work,' then of course I have to go."

He sat up and peered over the Italian's shoulder but Romano had gathered the blanket over his chest to stop a repeat undressing incident. "Aww, darn…"

* * *

Germany woke up the next morning feeling that something was off. He opened his eyes. The spot beside him that was usually occupied by Italy was empty. He placed a hand to the mattress. It was still warm. He snapped to attention when he heard a squeal and a loud thump, followed by a clatter. "Feliciano?" He looked up. Italy was struggling to dress himself. His trousers were clinging to his hips for dear life and his sleeves extended past his hands. He had stepped on his overly long pant legs and fallen into the closet, causing a cascade of coat hangers to rain down on him. "_Mein Gott,_ Feliciano." While Italy struggled with a coat-hook clinging tenaciously to his unbuttoned shirt, Germany got up and made his way over. He pulled Italy up and began adjusting the latter's disheveled clothing. "If you need help you can just ask!"

"Ve…"

He noticed the smaller nation trembling at his touch. "Ah. Sorry," he muttered, hooking the bra and leaving the rest for Italy to do on his own. He chastised himself for not remembering to give Italy some personal space. "I-I'll make breakfast."

Italy watched Germany's retreating back dejectedly. Doitsu never left him with messy attire before…

He smoothed out his oversized clothing as best he could and went downstairs. Germany looked up from his cooking. A strange look crossed his face. He quickly turned back to his work. Italy felt his heart sink. He wasn't imagining things. Doitsu really was avoiding him.

Germany had looked up and seen Feliciano looking at him nervously, his hands clasped together over his chest, a light blush tinting his cheeks pink. Perhaps Feli was self-conscious about his appearance? And for good reason; Germany found himself gawking at the gentle swell of Italy's shirt over his breasts. But no! Feliciano's mind was a fragile thing—he shouldn't be letting weird thoughts run rampant through his mind! He returned to slicing bread, hoping the Italian hadn't noticed his odd reaction.

When Germany was about to set off for work, Italy followed him hesitantly to the door. "D-Doitsu," he said, fidgeting. "U-um, have a nice day." He gave him a quick peck on the cheek and quickly turned to leave. Germany suddenly seized his wrist and pulled him back. He squeaked and glanced fearfully at the taller man.

"Your collar…" Germany reached out to adjust Italy's shirt collar, which was upturned on one end. As gently as he could, Germany smoothed down the starched cloth. He noticed that Feliciano had flinched at the feel of his gloved hand on his neck. "R-right, then. You have a good day too. Don't get into too much trouble, okay?" He picked up his briefcase and left. He was uncertain how the Italian would react to a kiss, so he patted the latter's shoulder instead. "_Ich liebe dich._"

Italy closed the door after Germany had left. He slumped against the wall, touching a hand to his neck. Doitsu's gesture had seemed so formal and detached. And why hadn't he kissed him goodbye today? Doubt gnawed at him. He straightened up and trudged to the living room, collapsing on the couch with a sad sigh.

"Doitsu…"

* * *

Romano swore as his hip crashed into the wall. "God, I hate this…" he grumbled, steadying himself against the kitchen counter. He had really been hoping the turning female thing was only a nightmare, but his man-parts were still missing, weren't they? And to add to his misery, he seemed to have lost his coordination, especially in the lower half of his body. At least the tomato bastard wasn't around to see this. He set his breakfast on the table and lowered himself shakily onto a chair. That last bump had really hurt. No wonder woman always waggled their butts so much. Upright walking just didn't work with all that sideways bulk. He sank his fork into the paella Spain had made for him and was about to dig in when the phone rang.

"Shit!" And he'd just settled down, too.

The phone rang once. Romano remained seated, glowering in the direction of the noise.

Twice.

He felt his fingers shaking. The fork slipped from his hand. He wasn't getting it. No way.

Three times.

He balled his hands into fists, determined not to let that stupid machine get the better of him.

Four times—

"Okay, that's it!" He jumped to his feet, hitting his other hip against the table, and hobbled to the phone. "What the hell do you want?" he snapped into the receiver. Great. Symmetrical bruises. Just what he needed.

"V-ve, Nii-chan?" Italy's voice was small and nervous today, instead of the having the rambunctious tone he usually carried.

"Oh, it's you."

"Nii-chan, I want to be with you… Doitsu left for work. C-can you come over today?"

"Fuck, I told you I'm not going into that potato bastard's house! Even if he's not in it! And besides…" He rubbed his sore hip. Like hell he was walking there in that condition.

"Ve?"

"Never mind. I'm not going over there, and that's that."

"Oh…"

Romano scowled. Feliciano sounded really down. And for some reason he felt, not like pummeling the idiot for being such a crybaby, but like…_comforting_ him. Him. The annoying childish younger brother who'd made him develop an inferiority complex because he was so fucking good at everything and Romano wasn't. Who was so fucking annoying that sometimes he felt like punching that stupid Veneziano in the face. The one who usually needed comforting like a fish needed to drink water. _Dio mio_, what had happened to him? Before he could sort out his thoughts, he realized he'd already blurted out, "But you can come over, dumbass."

His blood turned to ice as Italy cried, "Ve, okay!"

He slammed the phone down and buried his face in his hands. He'd lost it. He'd officially lost it. Why the hell was he being so darn _nice_ today? And last night… Romano shuddered as he recalled his total lack of resistance. The tomato bastard, true to his word, did indeed teach him how to, um, top, but after that he'd had his way and then this happened and that happened and then √ΨБ ≈ζ βЙĝûﮱĊﮬﮋ ▬╟╖ΨΘ΅ĎﮘủﮪﮣÐﯔﻭ÷ﻩﻄךּﬂ≠èفقשּׁěפּ۩۔ ợ۞∆▼ ▲ۤۑ۠±è¿½® §¢¡ǿ ▄ШéЭ¥¢ـكلدخ£ª«±é ب θ◊ءط^#╪&^◙░ĩ©Ă%$&*^#%Ħ*$#&صشسزرظعلضײغمذدװת...

Ugh.

He didn't even bother tidying up the house in preparation for Feliciano's visit; the only thing that desperately needed cleaning was Spain's bedroom, and it wasn't as though his brother was going to run upstairs and bury himself in the semen-stained bedsheets… Romano blushed. How the heck did he get back to that subject again? "Fuck!" he screamed. Then realized what he'd said. "Shit!" he swore again, banging his head against the wall. Something had gone seriously wrong with his brain. He was rubbing the bruise forming on his forehead when the doorbell rang. Muttering profanities under his breath, he picked his way carefully across the living room and got to the door without any further mishaps.

"Ve!" Italy greeted, beaming. He held out a large food container. "Nii-chan, I made you pasta!"

"Oh." Romano took it from him, deciding that he wouldn't be sharing it with the tomato bastard.

"I made it with wurst!"

"Oh." On second thought, Spain could have it all.

"Nii-chan~~ Nii-chan~~ I'm so happy you can spend the day with me today!" Italy wrapped his brother in a bone-crushing hug. His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Ve?"

"..."

Romano had never felt more molested in his life. "What—the—fuck—are—you—doing?" he growled, wrenching himself from Italy's groping hands.

Italy looked at him uncomfortably. "Nii-chan, you're not wearing a bra?"

Romano's face turned red. "Sh-shut up!"

* * *

**And so begins Romano's "Shut up!" marathon, next chapter.**

**By the way, in that line of gibberish and weird squiggles, I hope I didn't accidentally spell out anything rude with the Arabic symbols. I was only going for a visual effect.  
**

**Thanks for reading!  
**


	11. Shut up!

**Yay! It's Romano's "Shut up!" marathon! It's also over 9000-um, I mean 3000 words (the horror)! Anyone who goes through the trouble of counting how many times Romano says "Shut up!" in this chapter will get a cookie with "Shut up!" spelled out on in chocolate chips.**

**Special thanks to RandomReviewer! The fluff arrives next chapter~  
**

**Oh yeah, and I'm issuing an Ecchi Warning. Who knew a pair of Italian men-turned-women could get so...well..._fanservice-y_? D:  
**

* * *

"_Maledizione_," Romano grumbled as he rubbed the angry red marks on his sides. How was he supposed to know that bandages could chafe so much? Beside him, Italy watched his movements curiously. "Ve, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing! Sit farther away from me!" Romano scooted away.

"But Hungary said you should wear a bra to support—"

"Shut up! Not everyone has great big milk jugs like yours, okay? Some of us can do without! And it's humiliating wearing one! Not to mention, it'll chafe even more…"

"Ve? What happened to your skin?"

"Stop being such a busybody."

"Okay…"

They sat in silence for several minutes. Finally, Romano spoke. "So, mind telling me what's gotten you so upset?"

Italy looked at him in surprise. Romano was rarely ever this kind.

"Stop staring at me and answer the question, ya jerk!" Italy's eyes traveled downward. Romano covered himself quickly. "Pervert! You're just as bad as that tomato bastard!" Despite his complaints, Romano found himself subconsciously ogling Italy as well. What the hell was wrong with them today? "A-anyways, speak."

"Ve…" Italy's gaze dropped to the floor. He fidgeted. "Doitsu…he…"

Romano groaned. Of course. It just had to be about the potato freak.

"I-I think…" Italy's voice cracked as he spoke. "I think Doitsu might not like me anymore."

Romano watched his brother sob quietly in front of him. He'd heard Feliciano express his worries about that stupid potato-eater's feelings before, but he'd never seen him this stressed out. His pale, tear-streaked face lacked his usual vigor, his brow furrowed in a constant state of distress. It wasn't one of his usual bouts of crybaby-ism, Romano was sure of that. Feli looked shaken to the very core by whatever had gone on between him and Germany.

Frustration welled up inside him. Pah! Spouses. Spain was a big fat pain in the ass (literally, before Romano turned into a girl) and the potato bastard was… a potato bastard. He'd had enough. It was time for a change.

Italy squealed in surprise when his brother suddenly hoisted him up and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. (Now,_ there_ was a simile to make the southern nation cry.) Unfortunately, Romano had forgotten he'd lost a lot of his strength, and Italy's weight caused him to fall backwards onto the floor. "Nii-chan? What are you doing?" Romano cursed. Now his tailbone hurt too.

"What's it look like, idiot?" Romano pushed Italy off him and got up slowly, wincing. "I'm kidnapping you, of course. Come on, we're going to my place. Start packing."

"B-but…" Italy looked scared. "What about Doitsu and Spain-niichan?" Was Romano seriously considering leaving?

"Stupid, it's only for a few days." Romano flicked Italy's forehead, causing the latter to cry out in pain. "To hell with those two! We're taking a vacation."

"Ve, I love vacations!"

"That's great, nobody cares. Now go home and grab some clothes. We'll meet back here in an hour." He shooed Italy to the door. "Go!"

"But Nii-chan, I didn't think you'd be angry at Spain-niichan. What did he do?"

"Just go! You're wasting time standing here chitchatting!"

"Ve, was it something explicit?"

"Shut up!"

* * *

When Spain returned home that evening, he found a note on the kitchen table:

_Stupid tomato bastard:_

_Feliciano and I have gone to my place for a few days. Feli made pasta with wurst. It's in the fridge. It better be gone by the time I get back or else I'll force it down your throat, dickhead. Tell the potato bastard we left, because my idiot brother forgot to leave a note for him._

_If I don't phone you by 6, Feli and I are napping. Do not disturb._

_If I don't phone by 8, chances are he's dragging me on another dumb shopping trip. _

_If I don't phone by 9, we've decided to eat out._

_If I don't phone by 10, we're sightseeing. _

_If I don't phone by midnight, we've been abducted. Call the cops._

_Lovino Vargas _

He couldn't help but heave a sigh. "Lovi… impulsive as usual, I see. You really should plan things in advance. I wanted to take you out to a restaurant today but I guess that idea's scrapped, eh?" He opened the fridge.

"Tsk, I don't like wurst either…"

* * *

"Nii-chan's place is so well-maintained," Italy commented as he set his bag on the floor.

Romano snorted. "Of course it is. My caretaker is better than yours." He vaguely recalled Italy's house, where they'd had to fight through a thick pile of fallen leaves just to get to the front door. "If I were you, I'd start looking for someone else to take care of your property instead of that crazy lazy lady you have right now."

But Italy wasn't listening. He had run off to the living room and was staring out the window in awe. Romano's house overlooked a vast expanse of sparkling blue sea. "It's beautiful," he breathed, gaping at the crescent-shaped stretch of gleaming white sand a mere hundred feet away. "Nii-chan! Your house is right by the beach! That's so cool!"

"Tell me that again when you find out how hard it is keeping hooligans off my land," Romano grumbled.

"Ve, do you own the beach too?"

"Of course I do, idiot."

"Ve!" Italy exclaimed. "You know what we should do? We should spend a day out there! Yay, a beach party!" He clasped his hands together in excitement.

Romano looked at him in exasperation. "Again with the inane ideas," he muttered, settling on the couch.

"But I love the beach! And it's the weekend in two days! And I want to invite Spain-niichan and France-niichan and Austria and Hungary and Japan too!"

"I'm not accommodating them here."

"But I think Nii-chan would look great in a swimsuit!" Italy sidled up to him. "Ve, don't you want Spain-niichan to see you in a swimsuit?"

Romano cursed. He so did not want that tomato bastard to see him in a skimpy article of clothing that revealed his back and stomach and thighs and cleavage and the shape of his boobs and his butt! …Did he? His cheeks colored. What on earth was this? Why wasn't he vehemently opposing the idea? Could it be? Was he _enjoying_ the prospect of showing himself off to that dumb Spaniard? Oh hell, he'd been brainwashed! Darn that Veneziano for putting doubts into his mind!

Italy smiled when he saw that his brother had stopped resisting. "I knew you'd like it!"

Romano punched his arm. "Shut up!"

* * *

Romano agreed to Italy's proposition, on one condition: that Italy not invite France. "Ve…" his brother said disappointedly, but conceded. "We should get ready right away! Let's go swimsuit-shopping!"

"Can't we leave that to the day before the trip?" Romano grumbled.

Italy suddenly got a very serious look on his face. "Nii-chan," he began, "a few years ago, Japan taught me about clairvoyance. He said you close your eyes and focus really hard and then some images might appear in your mind. So I did, and you know what I saw?"

_The girl's fingers scramble rapidly over the keyboard. On the wall, the clock indicates that it is 2am, way past her bedtime, but her assignment is barely halfway done and it is due tomorrow! On MSN, her friends are posting personal messages ranging from "Yes, finally finished! Good night, you poor unfortunate bastards!" to "Yes, it's 2am and I'm still up. I wonder why. =_=". A friend messages her. "How r u doing?" he says. "I'm at the [so-and-so] part." "u lucky person," she replies, "im still at the [other so-and-so] part…" She glances at the clock. Another minute has passed, and no work done! "Darn it!" she mutters. She is in for it big-time._

"In parts of the world," Italy continued, "IB students suffer from extreme fatigue, starvation, and severe pessimism. It's like a disease! And it's a disease caused by the worst pathogen of all… procrastination." He tugged on Romano's sleeve. "And that's why we should go today, ve?"

Romano was apparently unfazed by Italy's graphic description. Italy tried a different approach.

"If we go today we can get it over with~~"

Romano stood up. "Let's go."

* * *

After some additional griping from Italy, Romano finally gave in and put the beach party preparations on top of the to-do list. It was either that or dealing with an endless barrage of whining and complaining while he tried to buy groceries. He glowered at Italy as the latter held the top of a blue-and-white striped bikini to his chest. "Ve, Nii-chan, how do I look?"

Romano sighed. "Feliciano, you're acting like a girl. Just find one that fits and let's go."

"But I _am_ a girl right now! And you still have to pick one!" Suddenly Italy had an idea. "Nii-chan, why don't you try this one?"

Romano stared at him like he'd just announced he hated pasta. Had Feliciano any idea how… how… _tiny_ that bikini was? He could already imagine Spain's head exploding in a burst of nosebleed. But Feliciano was already ushering him to the fitting room and before he knew what was happening, he had stripped—no, make that _been stripped_—and his brother was tying the string in the back. He blushed furiously as Feliciano looked at him.

"Ve~ It's really pretty!" Italy looked down. "But your hair is showing…"

"Shut up!"

* * *

"You can shave it off, Nii-chan."

"Shut up! There's no way I'm putting my razor to…to _that place_! Just—shut up!"

* * *

"Why not? Oh! Ve, it was a gift from Spain-niichan, wasn't it?"

"SHUT UP!"

* * *

"I'll lend you mine…"

"Fuck no!"

"But I promise you it's only been on my face…"

"Well your face touched the potato bastard! And not just his _face_ either, but other unmentionable places I really shouldn't say but am going to anyways such as [BEEP] and [BEEP] and [BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP]!"

"You speak Morse code too? Cool!"

"Shut up!"

* * *

"You could try waxing—"

"Shut up!"

* * *

Romano sighed in relief when Italy finally made up his mind. "I think Nii-chan would look great in this!" he chirped, holding up a red bikini. "Look, it's even got a tomato printed on it!"

"And bows and frills," Romano muttered under his breath, eyeing it skeptically. Still, it was more modest than some of the other stuff Feliciano had been contemplating, thank God. "Can we please just go now?"

"Ve, do you like it?"

"I'll settle for it. Now let's go."

"But Nii-chan, I think you should wear one you really really like! Because then Spain-niichan will—"

Romano stiffened. "Shut up! Stop mentioning that bastard's name!"

* * *

It was 7:26 when the phone rang.

Spain knew immediately who it was. "_Lovinito!_" he said cheerfully. "How are things going?"

"You sound too happy," Romano replied sullenly.

"But I'm happy to hear your voice! Doesn't that count for something?" Romano muttered something in Italian. "Hey, you sounded kind of upset in your note. Are you okay?"

"Oh, yes, I'm perfectly fine. Except _someone_" he turned and glared at Italy, "just bought me a skimpy swimsuit and insists we go to the beach."

"Oh, really?" Romano in a bikini! Spain giggled dreamily.

"…And lo and behold, the perverted thoughts are starting already. See, this is why I left."

"B-but it just proves how much I love you, Lovi~~"

"No, it proves how much you want me. There's a difference."

"Aww, aren't you happy that I want you?" Spain pouted.

"Damn you, at this rate you'll break my womb …Stop laughing, bastard. There's nothing funny about it."

Spain choked while laughing. "Sorry, Lovi," he said, pouring himself a glass of water. "It's just such an… _interesting_ idea…"

There was a long pause. "I have to call you back," Romano said. "I have a bun in the oven—"

Spain spat out his water. "Wh-wh-_what_?" he sputtered as the fine mist from his spit take settled on the kitchen counter. "_Already?_"

"…" It took several moments before Romano figured out what the heck the tomato bastard was talking about. When he finally did, the results were not pretty. "You—PERVERT! Sick-minded son of a bitch! What the heck! I only meant I was baking! Screw you!"

"Ahahahaha… sorry about that—"

"Shut up!" Romano stabbed the Disconnect button vehemently and threw the phone against the floor. Then he ran downstairs to save his burning pastries.

* * *

"How was dinner?" asked Spain when their conversation resumed later.

"Fine," Romano replied curtly.

"How are you and Feliciano doing?"

"I'm taking a break from you sneaking up behind me and grabbing me in weird places, pervert. As for Feli…" He trailed off.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Something about the potato bastard not liking him anymore." Italy suddenly bounded into the room, singing joyfully. "He seems to have forgotten about it, however."

"Ah, Germany again? Poor Feli, he really should stop worrying…"

"Ve, what are you talking about?" Italy inquired. "Nii-chan, did you tell Spain-niichan about the beach party yet?"

"Beach party?" Suddenly Spain perked up. "Is that why my _Lovinito_ went and got a bathing suit? _Hmmmmmmmm_?"

"Tch! Shut up!"

* * *

"I'm surrounded by perverts," Romano muttered half an hour later when he hung up. He was lying on his bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling. Italy had snuggled beside him and was fondling his breasts curiously. "That means you, jerk!" he snapped. "When the hell are you going to stop touching me?" Damn it, if Feliciano wasn't so morose right now he would've ripped that good-for-nothing's lewd little hands off!

"Ve," said Italy, "it feels soft!"

"Go touch your own!"

"B-but…" Italy sniffled. "Nii-chan's feel nicer… a-and doesn't Nii-chan feel good too when I do this?" He rolled Romano's nipple between his fingers. Romano gasped and a light blush rose to his cheeks.

"Stop it! E-even Spain hasn't gone that far yet, what gives you the right to—"

Wait. What the hell was he saying?

Italy's eyes widened. "Nii-chan—"

"AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH!" Romano suddenly screamed, jumping up. He began banging his head against the wall. "What the fuck is wrong with meeeeeeee?" He turned around and glared at Italy. "You! Go back to your own room! Stop converting me into a pervert too!"

"Nii-chan, I think it's quite natural for this to happen… I mean, I love Doitsu, but I still like girls' bodies, and Nii-chan happens to be very pretty—"

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTT? You—you LECHER! OUT! OUT OF MY ROOM! _VAI!_" He pushed Italy off his bed. Italy squealed and looked at him, a hurt expression on his face. Romano paused for a moment to stare at his body. Then he realized what he was doing. "SHIT!" he yelled. It was too late! He was already becoming dirty-minded! He collapsed onto the mattress, shuddering from the shock of this sudden revelation. "Veneziano… this is all your fault… Now I'm a pervert too…"

Italy smiled. "Ve, does that mean Nii-chan thinks I'm pretty too?"

Romano's head snapped up. His face was _livid_. He sputtered for several moments, trying to fine the right words to say, his fingers twitching spastically in his rage. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. Italy wondered if he should try to comfort his brother. And then Romano exploded.

"SHUT. _UUUUUUUUUUUPPPP!_"

* * *

Romano awoke to find something warm pressed against his back. He glanced at the clock. The glowing red digits indicated that it was 11:30pm. With a groan, he tried to sit up, wondering what had roused him, but discovered a pair of arms encircling his chest, holding him in place. Ugh. Of course. It was Feliciano. When the hell did he manage to sneak in here again?

He froze as Italy drew him closer. What was that idiot trying to do? He pried his brother's arms off but they only enveloped him even tighter. Italy wrapped his legs around Romano's hips and dug his nose into his hair. Romano felt a dampness by his ear. Feli had been crying. He nearly lost his temper when the younger Italian's hands found his breasts and squeezed them. Then he heard the whimpering. Italy was whining and sniffling like a lost puppy as he tried to practically bury himself in Romano. "Doitsu… Doitsu!" he hiccoughed.

So that was what this was about.

Romano heaved himself up, ignoring Italy's cry of protest. He forcibly broke Italy's grip and quickly scrambled out of reach. But Italy managed to grab his hand. His eyes were still closed. A fresh wave of tears was streaming down his face. "Doitsu!" he sobbed. "Doitsu!"

He tightened his grip. His hand was trembling.

"Tch!" Romano yanked his hand away. Italy wailed and stretched out his arm. His mewling grew more and more desperate as he scrabbled at the sheets, searching for Germany. Romano watched him for a moment. Sighing resignedly, he pressed his hand into Italy's palm.

Italy's fingers closed around it immediately and he hugged Romano's hand to his chest. "Doitsu…" He nuzzled it and gently bit one of the fingers. Romano swore under his breath as Italy ran his tongue over his knuckles. Then, perhaps realizing it wasn't Germany's hand, he let it go, sniveling softly. Slowly, his eyes opened and he stared at Romano in confusion. "Nii-chan?" he breathed. He saw the disheveled hair and clothes and the red mark forming on his finger. "O-oh. Sorry, I-I thought you were—"

"Yeah, I know," Romano cut him off. "I won't stand for your ridiculous pining any longer. This has got to stop, Feliciano." He picked up the phone.

Italy looked up curiously as Romano dialed a number. "Ve?" he said as the older brother pressed the receiver to Italy's ear. Italy sent him a questioning look as he listened to the ringing. Then someone picked up.

"_Hallo_."

Italy's heart skipped a beat. "D-Doitsu!"

* * *

**_Maledizione_-Damn**

**_Vai_-Go  
**

**

* * *

I haven't stopped laughing ever since I found out the Italian prime minister l****ives in the _Palazzo Chigi_ in ****Rome****. **

**Romano: That no-good, smelly old man! How dare he steal my line and hang it up over his house! Chigi! Stupid PM! _*gets fined for using "Chigi" without permission_**

**(No offense to Mr. Berlusconi, by the way. It's all in jest…)**

**

* * *

R&R :3  
**


	12. The Man from the Park

**Ach. Still working on it, don't worry! I haven't given up! I had a wonderful time doing math homework this week T_T**

**And also I started a new fic. From now on I'll have to divide my time between the two, so updates might take a while. If I don't add anything in 3 weeks, kindly yell at me and I will do my best to get the next chapter up ASAP. x.x**

**Also, Creepy OC Alert. And thanks to Spain we can put an Ecchi Alert on this chapter too.  
**

* * *

"Feli?" Germany's voice was fraught with worry. "Feli! What's going on? Why did you leave all of a sudden?"

"Gah! Doitsu!' Italy shrieked, nearly dropping the phone in his hysteria. "S-sorry to disturb you! It was Nii-chan who phoned! Doitsu please don't be angry oh no now you're going to hate me even more and never want to see me again…" He started crying. Romano left the room, closing the door behind him.

"…Wait, what?"

"Doitsu I love you, please don't leave me… I'll find a way to change back, I promise! I'll do anything if it means I can stay by your side—"

"Feliciano! Calm down. Now, start from the beginning. What makes you think I hate you?"

"L-Ludwig y-you've been a-avoid-ding me si-since yesterday," Italy burbled. "Y-you w—won't l-look me in the e-eye and s-sometimes I-I see a w-weird look on yo-your face wh-when you turn a—away… a-and you do-don't like to t-touch me either… l-like yesterday and th-this morning… L-Ludwig didn't k-kiss me this morning… *sniff* please don't hate me… I'm sorry I'm so demanding all the time, y-you must be angry th-that I act l-like I do all the time, b-because you're always sighing and facepalming, b-but I can't help it! I'm sorry my Leaning Tower of Piza is gone and I have boobs and my hips are fat and ugly but I'll make it up to you somehow so please don't hate me… please…"

Germany was speechless. Feliciano had been thinking that? "F-Feli, I…" Italy was sniffling again. Germany knew there were tears running down the Italian's cheeks. He wanted to reach his hand through the phone and wipe them, but it was an impossible task. Words would have to do. "Y-you're not ugly! That—that—look, I don't hate you, okay? Now, wait until I finish before you speak." He took a deep breath. "I admit that I _have_ been trying to avoid you. But it's not because of what you said. B-believe me, it's more me than it is you… um… D-don't take this the wrong way, but I—am—really—well, _attracted_ t-to you when you're like that. Yes. I am. But I thought y-you should have some time to a-adjust to your body and th-that means restraining m-my p-perv-verted thoughts s-so…"

"Oh…"

"This morning, you seemed like you were being sensitive about your appearance, so I—I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't want to upset you by touching you before you were ready, so…" He sighed. "Guess I still upset you in the end, just in a different way. I'm sorry, Feliciano. I love you, but I've never been good at expressing it… Please forgive me."

"Ve… Ludwig can touch me any way he wants, I don't mind…"

Germany blushed. "Oh. Um… thank you, I suppose…" He tried to push the avalanche of dirty thoughts Italy had just triggered out of his mind. "If you're worried about something, just talk to me, okay? I know you find it scary, but I promise you I'll listen. You of all people know best that I'm not a mean tyrant like I appear to be…"

"Yes… So then, Ludwig doesn't hate me?"

"Of course not. Don't worry, silly, I would never. _Ich liebe dich_."

"Ve! _Ti amo_, Ludwig! _Ti amo_!" He yawned. "Ludwig, I'm sleepy… _Ti amo_… _Ti amo_…"

Romano, who had been standing right outside the door the whole time, sighed in relief. "Finally some peace and quiet…" He waited until Italy's endless babbling of "_Ti amo_" slowly faded away, then crept back into the room. Italy had fallen asleep. Romano slid the phone out of his hands and replaced it on the bedside table. "Stupid brother," he muttered as he retired to the guest room meant for Italy.

* * *

Italy was back to his usual cheerful self the next morning, humming to himself as he made breakfast. "Ve, _buon giorno_, Nii-chan!" he greeted as Romano shuffled into the kitchen in his nightshirt, blinking blearily.

"Early-morning happiness should be banned," Romano grumbled.

"Ve… Nii-chan, you should cheer up! Have some cake! There's so much I want to do today! We can go shopping, or sightseeing! Ve, I love sightseeing! Please can we go?"

Romano ignored him as he poured milk in his coffee. "Maybe." He'd been planning to spend the day relaxing at home, but with Feliciano around, that would be impossible…

"Do you think we should check in with our boss?"

The cup nearly slipped from Romano's hand. _Shit!_ He'd forgotten about that smelly old man! "F-Feli, I think we're in big trouble," he stammered. Right on cue, the phone rang.

Italy picked it up. "_Pronto!_ Oh, hi sir!"

Romano ran off to hide under the bed.

* * *

"Look, I said I'm sorry for leaving you in the lurch!" Romano scowled. Italy glared at him tearfully. "So stop crying already, okay?"

"M-my ear is still ringing."

"Well, at least he's not that angry anymore. And we got today off, isn't that nice?"

"Ve."

"I'll take you shopping if you'll stop being mad at me."

"Ve, I wasn't mad at you, but okay!"

Romano facepalmed. What had he just talked himself into?

* * *

"_Moshimoshi_

?"

"Ve, Japan!"

"…Who is this?"

"It's Italy! Ve, I know I sound kind of weird right now, but that's because Nii-chan and I turned into girls! Isn't that cool?"

"Um…" _OMG MOE SENSES TINGLING! MUST—NOT—GIVE IN!_ "Is that so…"

"Ve, will you be busy tomorrow?"

"I am afraid so, Italia-kun. Korea is taking me to—I don't know where, but it can't be good." He sighed. "Sorry…"

"Ve… It's okay! It's a long way from your house to here, anyway. If it's too much trouble for you, then you don't have to come by."

"I apologize, Italia-kun. I will try my best to make it up to you—GAAAAAAAH!" Japan was suddenly attacked from behind by South Korea. "I—I—I—_Gomenasai_Imustcallyoubacklaterbye!" The line went dead.

Italy wondered what kind of strange things the Korean was doing to his friend.

* * *

"I thought I told you not to bother me," Romano snapped as Italy joined him on the balcony in the evening.

"But it's dinnertime! I made lasagna! Ve, don't you like lasagna? I made it with tomato sauce~~" Italy stood beside his brother. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Go away."

Italy followed Romano's gaze to the darkening sky. "Ve, I missed the sunset…" he said disappointedly. "Nii-chan, let's go for a walk after dinner!"

"You've dragged me around all day and now you expect me to accompany you outside again?"

"Yes!"

"You're despicable."

"Please?" Italy sent Romano his best puppy-dog look.

…

"Why do I do this to myself," Romano muttered as he walked through the streets of Rome, Italy giggling giddily beside him. "And do you have to link arms with me?"

"But Doitsu said it's the best way to stay together in a crowd!" Italy waved at a pretty girl on the other side of the street. She gave him a weird look and hurried away.

Romano scoffed. "He was making excuses to spend more touchy-feely time with you, idiot. And remember your appearance. Geez." But he relented and let Italy continue holding his arm.

"Ve," Italy piped up, "look! There's an old man sitting in the street!"

"Probably a beggar," said Romano. "Stay away, he'll give you rabies."

"Ve, he's looking at us!"

"…Walk faster, Feli."

He pulled Italy's arm, but Italy lost his balance and fell, dragging Romano down with him. As they lay there trying to get their limbs untangled, someone stopped in front of them. "Hey, do you need help?" a voice asked. Italy looked up and gasped.

"It's you!"

* * *

England had just stepped out of the shower when he was assaulted by a barrage of glimmering fairies, all chanting his name. "What? What is it?" he cried frantically as he quickly wrapped his towel around his waist. The fairies circled him excitedly.

"Arthur! Arthur! Come look!" a pink one squeaked. She flew off, her fellow fairies following close behind. England ran after them, clutching his towel.

They led him onto his balcony. Luckily, no one was outside at the time, or they would've seen a dripping wet, almost-naked Brit talking to himself. Another fairy pointed at the sky. England looked up towards Orion. "What is it? I don't see anything," he said, squinting.

"The wishing star! The wishing star!" the fairies chorused.

England looked closer. Instead of 4 points of light, Orion's belt had 5. "Bloody hell!" he cried. "They're breeding!"

"No! It's a wishing star!" the fairies corrected him. Flying Mint Bunny swooped in out of nowhere and joined in.

"Huh?"

"It used to be a shooting star," Flying Mint Bunny explained. "Now it's staying still in the sky because it's granting someone's wish."

"Wait, doesn't this go against the laws of astronomy or something? Shooting stars, or meteors, are just bits of space crap burning up in Earth's atmosphere. So how…?" He shook his head. "Never mind. The scientists refused to believe in you lot, too, those gits." He marveled at the sight of the extra star. "Haha, maybe Orion's getting a beer belly… Thank you for showing me. It's quite a magical sight." The fairies flew around him, chattering happily.

He started at the word "magical." Somehow, it reminded him of something that had happened recently… His eyes widened in realization. Of course! "Bloody hell!" he shouted as he raced indoors and snatched up his phone.

* * *

China was busy fending off a glomp-happy South Korea when the phone rang. Planting one foot in Korea's face, he picked up the phone with his other foot and skillfully flung it into his hand. "_Wei_?"

"China! China! I know what happened to Italy and Romano!" England gasped. "The fairies helped me figure it out!"

"That's—great," said China, as Korea yanked his foot out of the way. "Listen, I'm going to have to call you back ahen, okay? Korea's being GAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The line went dead.

"Hello? China? Hello?" But only a steady beeping tone answered him.

South Korea dragged China away, whistling to himself. Another day, another Asian country captured.

* * *

"Hmm?" The young man standing before Italy and Romano blinked in confusion. "Have we met?" Recognition flickered in his face. "Oh! You're the girl from the park!" He helped Italy and Romano to their feet. "Fancy meeting you in Rome!"

"Ve, my broth—I mean, sister—lives here."

Romano grimaced and he balled his hands into fists. Oh, Feli was so going to get it when they got home. Sister? _Really? _

"What a coincidence!" Italy and the man laughed. "By the way, I didn't catch your name last time. I'm Lukas." He extended his hand.

Italy took it. "I'm Feliciano! And this is my br—sister Lovino!"

Romano scowled. "Hi."

Lukas smiled. "Nice to meet you, Lovino."

"Mm."

"What a coincidence, meeting you here!" Italy exclaimed.

"Yeah, it sure is!" Lukas agreed. "I came here with a bunch of friends for the weekend before we resume our summer courses. But imagine, meeting you first in Germany and now here? It must be fate!" He clasped Italy's hands in his, grinning. Italy grinned back.

"Oh, great," Romano grumbled. "Another potato-eater." And this one was clinging to his brother like some stupid tomato bastard…

He remained grumpily silent until Lukas had left. "Who was that?" he asked Italy as they returned home.

"Ve, Lukas is someone I met in the park! He helped me find Aster when he ran away! Isn't he nice?"

"…" Romano glowered at him. "I don't like the way he looks at you."

"But you said that about Doitsu too, and he turned out to be a good person!"

"Exactly."

"Ve?" Italy cocked his head. "I don't understand…"

"Fine, then. Forget what I said. You'd be too dense to figure it out anyway." Romano stormed off in a huff.

"Ah! Nii-chan! Wait!" Italy ran after his brother. Why was Romano so upset about his acquaintance with Lukas?

* * *

On Saturday morning, Romano awoke to find Italy sleeping beside him again. "Curse you!" he muttered as he got out of bed, noting that they had overslept. At least his sides had finally stopped hurting. He put on his slippers and trudged to the bathroom.

Today was the day he made an utter fool of himself in front of the tomato bastard, the frying pan lady and the piano nerd. He sighed. Darn his stupid brother for coming up with such a thing…

And he'd invited the potato bastard too, just yesterday.

Darn Italy even more.

Well, at least Antonio would be there—

He stopped dead in his tracks. Had he just thought…? His eyes widened in horror as images of him and Spain flitted through his head. "Shit!" he cried. He was going weak-minded! Who the hell would want to be with that happy-go-lucky, insane, former conquistador with a sex drive that made Greece seem like a nun? Who the hell could possibly like that cute idiotic grin and that beautiful sun-kissed skin and those hot, toned abs and… He shook his head vigorously. Maybe a brisk morning walk would help him think straight again.

He was returning home when he felt a pair of hands on his breasts. _What, again?_ And how had his brother followed him out there without him noticing? "Feliciano, what have I told you about groping me in public?" he snapped as the offending hands squeezed them affectionately. He looked down. Wait, those hands were too tan to be Italy's…

"Fusosososososo!" said Spain cheerfully. "They _are_ soft!"

A second later, he was curled up on the ground, wincing from the impact of Romano's blow to his groin. "I see parts of you are still as hard as ever," he said in a strained voice as the Italian lowered his knee. "Ah, Lovi… you're so cute when you're playing hard to get…"

"I'll castrate you, you jerk!" Romano screeched, lifting his leg again. Spain giggled. "What the hell is so funny?"

"They're white~~~"

By the time Romano figured out that Spain had managed to see up his shorts, the latter had gotten up and was slowly stumbling away. Romano strode up to him and dealt another swift kick between the man's legs.

As Spain crumpled, the Italian grabbed him and held him in a headlock. Spain merely giggled some more as he leaned his head against Romano's bosom. "You can't resist my charm forever, _Lovinito_! Bwahahaha!" At which point Romano dropped him and stomped off in disgust, cussing like a pirate.

Spain smiled to himself. Today was going to be interesting…

* * *

Italy awoke to the sound of barking. He squealed, and barely had time to register what he was hearing when he was jumped by a big furry thing with a wet tongue. As his mind slowly came into focus, the big furry thing turned out to be not one, but three dogs, all scampering around on the bed and licking him excitedly. Then a voice called out, and the dogs disappeared from Italy's field of vision. Someone wiped his face with a handkerchief. Italy beamed when he saw who it was.

"Doitsu!" he cried, tackling Germany with a hug. "Doitsu! Doitsu!"

Germany smiled and kissed him. "_Guten Morgen, Liebling._"

Italy let out a squeak of surprise. "Doitsu, you're touching my butt!"

"Ah! S-sorry!" He was about to take his hands off when he noticed Italy watching him expectantly. He chuckled. "_Gott_, Feliciano, you could at least drop me subtler hints…"

"Doitsu~~~~~~" Italy nuzzled him. "I missed you~~~~~~~~"

"I missed you too," Germany replied.

"Ve, does my butt feel nice?"

"Feli, you—!" Italy smirked. Germany blushed. "Y-yes…"

Italy giggled. "_Ti amo_, Doitsu~~~"

"_Ich liebe dich_."

* * *

**I just found out: I suck at writing lemons, and I suck at writing fluff too. The only thing I don't suck at is writing pointless, aimless, parodying crap like the Daffy Duck reference in this chapter. Which might be pretty interesting, if I didn't have a plot to live for. Darn, writing is harder than I thought...**

**So thanks for putting up with another chapter, dear readers. :3  
**


	13. Beach Wars I

**Filler episode! D:**

**I thought about doing the beach party thing in one chapter but then how many words would that make it...4500? Not good, especially since no one seems interested in my 4500-worder I wrote this weekend for Valentine's Day (if you like something funny, fluffy, and almost annoyingly long, have a look at it! It's called I Like You, I Love You). So I split it into two chapters. Nothing much goes on here, just a bit of fluttering around and suspense if you're wondering what happened to China and Japan. (The answer: ALIENS, that's what!) And from now on, I solemnly swear I will update at least once every week. Unless I get shipped to China (I already know that's happening in the last 2 weeks of March). Thanks for your support, everyone! :D  
**

* * *

China did not like this one bit.

He had woken up to find himself lying on an unfamiliar bed, stripped to his underwear, and missing a bunch of memories of what had happened a few hours ago. And to make matters worse, Japan was lying next to him, in the same predicament, but still out cold. From time to time a soft snore escaped from the man as he readjusted himself in his sleep.

He was soon jolted out of La-La Land, however, when the door burst open and a machete-bearing South Korea pranced in. "Aniki, you're awake!" he said happily. The knife glinted ominously as he took off his hat. There was a dark red liquid on the metal. China tensed as the Korean approached. "Guess what?"

"I-it's fake blood?" China ventured, pointing a shaking finger at the blade.

"Nope!" Korea grinned. "I just got us breakfast! Oh boy, there sure are a bunch of weird animals in this forest! But I nabbed a bunny! Isn't that cool?"

China had a very, _very_ bad feeling. "Um, where are we aru?"

"Well, since we've all been so laden down with work lately, I thought I'd take us on an epic camping trip! Hong Kong's outside stoking the fire, by the way. It's gonna be so fun!"

From outside came Hong Kong's voice: "Korea, my sleeves! Help!"

China collapsed back onto the bed. "Kill me now…"

And that was when Japan woke up, blinking blearily. "Huh? What did I miss?"

* * *

Austria wondered why Elizabeta had gone out of her way to drag him on this silly trip. He was standing in the driveway of Romano's house, clad in a T-shirt and Bermuda shorts (which that evil woman had forced—yes, forced!—upon him), blinking in confusion as Hungary squealed and hugged the brothers. Then she turned around and presented Italy to him. Austria's jaw dropped.

"I-I-Italy… is that… is that…" Suddenly he felt faint. "Erzsébet, what kind of sick joke is this?"

"Ve, but…" Italy lifted his shirt. Austria could feel all his integrity take a running jump out the window. "I really _am_ a girl, see?"

There was too much blood coming from Austria's nose for him to reply.

"Idiot!" shouted Romano. "What did I tell you about flashing people?"

"But I'm wearing something underneath!" Italy protested, turning around. "See?"

"I don't want to!"

"What on earth happened to them?" Austria muttered.

Hungary smirked. "Who cares? They're cute like this too!"

"Oh dear…"

* * *

Germany had just found a nice shady spot to put the cooler when he felt a pair of hands on his back. "Doitsu, Doitsu!" said Italy, stepping back to let the German look at him. "Ve, do I look pretty?"

He gaped at the voluptuous body in front of him. Italy was wearing a bright green bikini with a faint flower pattern printed on the fabric. His smooth, pale skin gleamed in the sun. A beach towel hung off his small shoulders, extending to mid-thigh; Germany pushed it aside, allowing his eyes to take in the slender waist and wide, pleasantly curved hips. He felt Italy's eyes on him as he slid his hand up to his breast before reluctantly pulling away. "No," he breathed, "'pretty' doesn't even _begin_ to describe you…" He lifted Italy's chin, running his thumb over the brunette's lips, those soft, slightly parted, so damn _kissable_ lips—

Italy squealed as he was dragged back roughly by the hair. "You," Romano growled. "There will be no snogging on my property unless I allow it." He blushed as Italy looked him up and down. "Wh-what? Stop staring, damn it!"

"Ve~~~~~~~!" Italy whirled around and dove straight for his brother's chest. Romano still kept a short-sleeved shirt over his swimsuit, though it was unbuttoned along the front, exposing a strip of olive skin from his neck to his navel that was partially covered by a low-cut red halterneck. His bikini bottom was extended into a pair of shorts (the only reason he'd even let Italy buy the darn thing for him). "Nii-chan, you're pretty too!"

"Chigiiiiii! Stop molesting me! One Thousand Years of—I'll FUCKING CUT YOUR HANDS OFF IF YOU DO THAT AGAIN!" He yanked Italy's hands out of his shorts with an indignant cry. "The ass is off limits, do you hear?"

"Why?" said Spain, who had suddenly appeared on the scene, stroking Romano's butt with an innocent look on his face.

Germany stared.

Italy gasped.

Romano turned around slowly. "_You_…"

Spain caught his fist before it reached him. "Ahahaha! Lovi, you look so adorable! _Mi tomate~~~~_" He grabbed the other hand before it could throw a punch and dragged a struggling Romano back inside, dodging the Italian's frequent attempts at his vital regions. "Come, let's put some sunscreen on you before you head into the water!"

Germany and Italy stared after them. Then Italy piped up. "Ve, Doitsu, w-will you also put sunscreen on me?"

"S-sure…"

* * *

Italy slipped through the water as stealthily as a cat. Target in sight. Slowly, he approached. He was five feet away… four… three…

"Ve~~~~~~!" he shouted as he jumped Romano from behind, groping the latter's breasts.

Romano squealed like a stuck pig. He whirled around, fuming. "Chigi! You son of a bitch! I'll get you for this!" With that, he slammed his hands into Italy's chest and pushed him backwards. Italy cried out as he tumbled backwards into the water.

He surfaced, sputtering. "Nii-chan! That hurt!" He jumped back to his feet and tackled Romano.

"What are they doing?" Germany muttered. He, Spain, Austria, and Hungary were lounging in the shade of several beach umbrellas, admiring the beautiful scenery in front of them. Or, at least, Germany was trying to. Spain was recounting his last episode of hot passionate sex with the grumpy southern nation, Hungary was drooling as she watched the Italy brothers fight, and Austria was adjusting the umbrellas so he wouldn't get any sunlight on his pale skin. And where there was Austria, there was Prussia. Germany shuddered. His _bruder_ would be arriving any moment now…

"Don't worry, they're just having fun," said Hungary, as Romano twisted a screaming Italy's nipples. "Yes, having fun exploring each others' bodies while fighting. Hehehehehehe." Romano grunted in pain as Italy elbowed him in the boob.

"Aren't they just being perverted?" Romano pinned Italy in a headlock and ground his knuckles into Italy's breast.

Hungary laughed. "Boys will be boys." In a rare show of competence, Italy somehow managed to throw Romano over his shoulder and yanked at his swimsuit top.

"Sh-shouldn't we stop them?" Germany cried as it came off in Italy's hand. Romano screamed and covered himself.

"Nah."

Swearing, Romano lunged at Italy, only to receive a foot in the face as Italy kicked him back. He fell with a huge splash. Then everything went silent. "Nii-chan?" said Italy uncertainly, peering at the water in front of him. His brother had disappeared.

That was when Romano sprang up from behind him and rammed his head into Italy's butt.

"I thought you were into guy-on-guy action," said Germany.

"Well," said Austria, "recently she expanded her interests to _yuri_ as well."

Italy yelped and retaliated by squashing Romano's head into his bosom. Romano's arms flailed about as he struggled to breathe.

"Ahahahaha, Lovi~" Spain was clearly enjoying watching the two wrestle with each other. "Go, Lovi! Antonio is cheering for you! Woot!" Romano paused to give Spain the finger before resuming his scrabble with Italy.

"It looks fun," Hungary commented as the brothers disappeared underwater, kicking and clawing at each other. She stood up. "Oh, boys~~~!" she called out.

Romano's head poked out. A moment later Italy followed suit. Their eyes widened when they saw Hungary running towards them, an evil grin plastered on her face. Before they could react, she was in the water with them—_holy crap_ that expression was scary—and groped them both. The brothers ran for their lives. They couldn't fight back, because Hungary was an actual girl…

Germany facepalmed. Spain sighed disappointedly. Austria opened a book.

"How ridiculous everyone's being today…"

"Oh Hungary, Lovi was so pretty before, while he was squabbling with Feliciano…"

"Shut up so I can read…"

"Kesesesesesese! I told you I would catch up to you! I'm awesome!" Prussia's head emerged from the sand at Germany's feet, spitting a snorkel out of his mouth. "Look at you, wimp! Hiding your puny self from the sun! Oh, no! The sun's going to light you on fire! Hahahaha!" He prodded Austria annoyingly as he laughed. "Kira kira~~~~! Kira kira~~~~!"

**A/N: Prussia is referring to Austria's 10-minute "sparkle-sparkle" challenge (go Youtube it! :D) where Austria looks more handsome than France while saying, "Kira kira~~~~!" (meaning "sparkle sparkle"). Some people liken it to the way Twilight vampires sparkle in the sun. And speaking of sun, the 'sparkling' Austria is avoiding it… so he's a weenie twinkly Twilight vampire. XD**

"Gil! Nice to see you here!" said Spain.

"Bwahahahahaha! Hey there Tonio!" They slapped each other a high-five. "Oh. What's going on?"

The brothers were escaping onto shore, with Italy pulling Romano by the hand out of the water, looking back in horror as Hungary closed the distance between them. Suddenly he tripped in the sand. Romano shouted as Italy dragged him down with him. He landed with his face in the sand, on top of Italy. "Nii-chan!" Italy screamed, trying to push his brother off. "Ah! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to put my face there only Spain-niichan has the right to do that I'm so sorry I'm so—"

Romano crossed his arms protectively over his chest, sputtering. "Wh-wh-what did you say? You pasta-loving freak, I'll kill you! Ptui!" He spat out a mouthful of sand and headbutted Italy, who started bawling. "Say it again! Say it again, I dare you!"

"Nooooo! Nii-chan! I'm sorry! Ah! No more purple nurples! I'll do anything! Just—please—"

And Hungary made three.

Spain gaped as she pounced on the brothers, a deep maniacal laugh bubbling in her throat, molesting hands at the ready. "Hungary… is… my hero," he gushed, watching her glomp the brothers and touch them in inappropriate ways and places.

"Doitsu! Doitsu! Help me!" Italy wailed. "Hungary's going to—aha! Ahahahahahahaha! Stop it! !" He squirmed around as Hungary tickled him.

Romano took the chance to sneak away. "How dare you not save me, bastard!" he hissed as he cowered behind Spain.

"But you were so cute play-fighting with Feliciano, I just couldn't help but watch!" Spain hugged him. "Sorry, Lovi!"

"You don't sound sorry, damn it!" Romano sniffled. "Screw you!"

"Yes, I promise you can do that when we get home~~~"

This earned him a slap and a string of swear words. "Aaaaah! Come back Lovi…" He reached out a hand beseechingly as Romano stormed off, muttering angrily to himself.

He soon returned, though, because there was no one else he could sit with. Italy was busy being raped by Hungary, Germany was a potato bastard, Prussia was a potato bastard _and_ a freaking egomaniac, Austria... eww. Never. So he was stuck beside the giggling Spaniard again. "I knew you would come back to me! You love me too much to ever ditch me! But it's okay, I'll keep it a secret between the two of us, okay? Hehehehehehehe!"

Seriously, he wanted to punch that idiot in the face right now.

Italy finally escaped from Hungary and leaped onto Germany, crying. "Ve—! Doitsu, that was so scary!" He hugged him tightly, oblivious to the fact that the German's face was smushed into his cleavage. Upon seeing his brother's unfortunate (or really fortunate…) situation, Prussia burst out laughing.

"Hahaha… oh West… you look so ridiculous when you're blushing…" Prussia laughed even harder when Germany tried to glare at him, but ended up looking like he'd sat on a pin instead.

Austria sighed. "Erzsébet… really…"

Oh, would nothing stop Prussia's laughter? "He's just miffed because he hasn't gotten laid in weeks!" At this Austria suddenly stood up, book in hand, eyes flashing angrily as he approached the obnoxious Prussian.

"I would appreciate it if you kept my personal life out of this," he said, his voice dangerously low.

"…Oh crap."

* * *

"Serves you right," said Germany, as Italy stuck a Band-Aid on Prussia's forehead. "This is what you get for stalking people."

"Ve…" Italy nodded in agreement.

"What are you nodding for? You tried to help him escape!"

* * *

**I _swear to God_ my friend was making a Hetalia reference the other day.**

**We were watching a physics video about electromagnetism and making a gob of beer float (You can find it on a site called Sixty Symbols - it's the symbol that looks like an italicized X, I think) and when he commented on how cool the guy looked drinking the floating beer I said, "Nah, he seems more like a wine person..." And then my friend said, "Well, but I bet his friend is a beer person... his cool beer-chugging homosexual friend... with whom he's gay..."**

**Me: OAO**

**

* * *

**

**Incidentally, if the above sounded familiar... J*** WOT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING HERE? GO AWAY! D:**

**And yeah, my identity's just been found out, if that's case... Oh boy, he'll never look at me the same way again -.-'**

**Thanks for reading, by the way. :3  
**


	14. Beach Wars II

**Hooray! I finished another chapter! I stayed up all night to finish off my lab reports (three due on the same day... blarg.) and yesterday I was so sleepy, but today I am alert again! Somewhat.**

**And so, here is another installment of The Shooting Star's Revenge. Enjoy~~  
**

* * *

"Hey," said Prussia, "let's play a game."

"Very well," said Austria, not even looking up from the page. "It shall be called the Statue Game and the way you play is by seeing who can stay still and quiet for the longest amount of time."

"Ve, that sounds fun!" Italy piped up. "Oh no! I made noise! I lose…"

"No, I mean an actual game!" Prussia whined. "Not some made-up one a parent made up one day to shut the kids up! I want to play a team sport, like volleyball or soccer or something!"

"Well, good luck playing it by yourself," said Austria.

"Oh, come on, Roderich," said Hungary, "what's the point of coming all the way here just to do something you could've done at home anyways?" She snatched his book away, ignoring his cries of protest. "Let's help Gilbert think of something!"

"I have a bad feeling about this," Germany muttered.

"For once, I agree with you," said Romano.

Half an hour later, the three had finalized the rules of The Awesome Prussia's Knee-to-Ankle-Deep Water Capture the Flag. "It's very simple," Prussia told Spain, Romano, Italy and Germany, while Hungary dragged Austria off to change into his trunks. "It's a game Mattie plays a lot. Basically, you have to try and capture the other team's flag and get it onto your side. But since it's kind of hard to draw boundaries, I modified it to make it even more awesome! We'll be using these," he held up a bunch of giant white flags Italy had lent him, "and the way it'll work is: each team starts with two flags, and the first to get all four wins! Now, here comes the awesome part: unlike that wussy sport Mattie plays, we don't divide the playing field into territories so you get tagged when you're on the opponent's side. Nope, it's one big free-for-all! You can pass the flag to a teammate if you get cornered, but if you drop it, it gets taken back to the starting point. And the way you get someone to drop the flag is by tackling them, or incapacitating them in any way. Anything goes! Biting, kicking, tripping, clawing, punching, groping, tickling… dry humping…" He cleared his throat. "Right! Any questions? None? Great, let's divide up the teams! I want Feli and Tonio."

"Yay, Prussia!" Italy cheered. "And Spain-niichan!" He gave both of them a hug.

"Aww, Lovi, aren't you jealous?" said Spain as he returned the gesture. "Come hug me too!" He spread his arms invitingly.

Romano scowled. "Fat chance, bastard."

"Lovi… I'm sad…"

"Deal with it."

"Ve, Doitsu!" said Italy. "Doitsu, will you be on our team? Pretty please?"

"Sorry, Feli!" said Prussia. "I think I'll split up the couples to make things more interesting! Don't you think it'll be more awesome that way?"

"But I don't want to fight Doitsu…"

"You're not _fighting_ him, just going against him in a game! It's okay, it'll be fun!" He smiled reassuringly.

"Ve… okay…"

Realization dawned on Romano. "Wait, does that mean I'm teamed up with…?"

"Well, if I'm on this side, and we're a couple…" said Spain.

"_Fuuuuuuuuckkkkkkk!_" Romano hissed. "Damn it, this is the worst rule ever! Prussia, I demand you put me on your team! I'd rather face that bastard Spain and my idiot brother than… than…!" He glared at Germany.

"Oh, Lovi~~~~" Spain beamed. "I love you too~~~~~"

"Shut up."

"And you know what? When I said 'we're a couple,' it made me feel really happy! Doesn't it make you feel happy too?"

"G-go away!"

"Hehehe! Did your voice just waver for a second? Are you secretly agreeing with everything I say?"

Romano huffed. "As if, jerk."

"Right," said Prussia, "let's split up Austria and Hungary as well! I'll take Hungary."

"Just a minute," Hungary cut in as she returned, pushing a reluctant Austria in front of her. The latter was blushing and trying to shield his legs from view. "You've picked enough people. It's time someone else got a say in this. And I say… I want to go on Germany's team."

* * *

"So this is why," Prussia muttered, glaring at the Austrian in front of him.

"I told you I didn't want to play. This is what you get for disregarding my wishes," Austria replied.

"So this is your brilliant plan," Germany mused, watching the two glare daggers at each other. "It's, well, brilliant."

Hungary flashed him a thumbs up. "There'll be so much infighting they won't even be able to pay attention to the game! I couldn't convince Roderich to ditch the shirt, though. What a disappointment…"

"Now, now," said Spain, squeezing himself between Prussia and Austria to stop their bickering, "let's set aside our differences and work together, okay? We have a game to win! Right, Italy?"

"Ve!"

Austria sighed. "Very well. But only this once."

"Hungary would've been better," Prussia grumbled.

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not her!"

"You _should_ be sorry!"

"Spain-niichan, I've set up the flags!" Italy reported, pointing to where he'd stuck the flagpoles into the sand.

"Well done, Feli! Seems like you and I will have to work harder to make up for those two." He sighed. "But we're awesome nations! We can do it!"

"Yes sir!"

"Now let's beat the crap out of Team Hungary!"

"…Not Team Doitsu?"

"Sorry. She _is_ the captain…"

"Ve…"

Germany, Hungary and Romano had erected their flags on the other end of the beach. When Hungary waved, signaling game start, Spain said, "Well, I guess this is it. Go, Feliciano! I'll stay and guard the flags."

"Yes sir!"

Meanwhile, the other team had decided to leave Hungary in defense while Germany and Romano attacked. "Today," Romano mumbled as he ran, "I have to ally myself with that stupid potato bastard." He sidestepped as Prussia advanced, arms stretched in an attempt to intercept them. "God, why do You hate me? Is it because I married a man?"

Austria, with a Tarzan-like yell, jumped on Germany. "I am sorry! I really don't want to be doing this, but they're forcing me to—hmm?" With a groan, he realized that Germany had just continued running while dragging him along. "I knew it… I'd be better off reading…"

Germany easily shook him off and continued running.

Italy, meanwhile, had gotten as far as five yards from his goal. He stopped there, unsure of what to do. Hungary was grinning menacingly, and he didn't want to get molested again… "Veeeeeeee! Spain-niichan, what do I do now?" he wailed.

But Spain was busy guarding the flags from Romano and Germany, who were approaching fast. Prussia, meanwhile, was splashing towards Austria, determination in his eyes. "Hang on, Tonio, I'm coming!" He seized Austria and launched him at Germany. "Britannia—I mean, Preußen Cannon!"

A screaming brunette whizzed through the air, crashing into Germany's butt. Both hit the water with a loud splash. "Y-you!" Austria sputtered as he surfaced. "You could've aimed higher, you know!"

Prussia was laughing too hard to care.

Romano, meanwhile, had successfully beaten up Spain and was already racing back with one of the flags. Italy decided to change objectives and charged at him, tackling his brother with a dogged "Ve~~~~~!" Then, while Romano was still disoriented, he wrenched the flag out of his hands and ran back, waving it triumphantly. While he was twirling it in one hand, Germany reached out and snatched it from him.

"Nooooooooo! Doitsuuuuuuuu!" Italy tried to get it back, but Germany held it over his head, out of the Italian's reach.

Austria picked himself up, dripping wet and livid. "Prussia, you—you—[CENSORED]! How dare you use that technique! You'll pay for that!" He pointed to the albino, who was fighting off Romano and Hungary as he made for the opposition's flags. Then he stripped off his shirt, which was clinging annoyingly to his skin.

Hungary gaped. As she did, she let go of Prussia, who, free of one hindrance, easily took care of the other and took one of the flags. Then he ran back to his side, cackling. Hungary continued gawking at the shirtless Austria.

The German brothers met halfway. For some reason, Prussia decided to take out Germany and bring both flags back. "Think fast, West!" he shouted, swinging his flag at him like a sword. Germany barely managed to duck out of the way. Prussia swung at him again; this time, Germany parried with his own flag. The two exchanged heated glares. Then Germany stepped away from Prussia and continued running.

"West, you coward!" Prussia called after him. "You call yourself a man?" But Romano had gotten his second wind and the effects of Austria's shirtlessness had started to wear off, so he went back to his team. Italy was crying about how Germany had stolen the flag from him, Austria was feeling self-conscious walking around bare-chested and Spain was trying to keep everyone's morale up with another (retarded) cheer-up charm. "It's okay, we'll beat them yet!" said Prussia, patting Italy's shoulder. "We need a game plan…"

"No more Preußen Cannon," Austria stated sternly. "The cannonball refuses to cooperate."

"Ve, we could use the, uh… 'Florentine Flash,'" Italy suggested.

"What's that?"

"That's where I take my clothes off and hug someone, ve~!"

"Uh… no, that's okay. You can keep that attack to the bedroom—"

"Kesesesesese! Feli, you're awesome! That would work so well against West! Think you could pull it off?"

"Italy, I demand you keep what little clothing you have on, on! I will not stand for nudity during this ridiculous game!"

"Um, guys…" Spain interrupted, "I hate to break up your conversation, but…" He pointed.

Team Hungary was going kamikaze.

"Quick, which of us here is the fastest?" said Prussia as all three opponents ran at them. "Tonio! You did the 100-meter dash in 11 seconds once, right? We'll hold them off; you go and bring their flags back!"

Spain saluted. "Got it!"

"Feli, take care of Romano! Austria, get Hungary! I'll handle my _bruder!_ Everyone ready?"

"Yeah!"

"Ve!"

"I'm starting to hate this more and more…"

Before Austria knew what was happening, Germany was upon him, trying to screw up Prussia's plan. Swearing, Prussia grabbed the waistband of his brother's trunks and pulled. "Preuβen Wedgie!" he sneered as Germany let go of Austria with a cry. "Now—" But Hungary had run by him and was approaching the flags, fast. Austria sighed. He didn't think he would have to do this, but if they lost the game Prussia would bother him to no end… He cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Erzsébet," he called, "the trunks are coming off too."

Hungary stopped dead in her tracks. "Really~~~~?" She turned around, a hungry look in her eyes. Austria felt his heart sink. Oh, why had he just done this to himself?

Romano, meanwhile, had beaten Italy to a pulp. While Hungary ogled Austria, he retrieved the flags and started heading back to his side. Prussia, upon realizing what had happened, abandoned Germany and gave chase. Romano screamed and ran faster, but the albino was quickly gaining on him. That was when Germany played his trump card.

"Blackie! Berlitz! Aster!" he called to the dogs lounging on the sand. He pointed at Prussia. "_Voraus!_"

The dogs jumped up and ran after Prussia, barking excitedly. Blackie tugged on his trunks, while Aster and Berlitz bowled him over. "Curse you, Weeeeeeest!" he shrieked as he flipped forward into the water, arms flailing wildly. The dogs circled him, barking and wagging their tails as Germany approached.

"Good dogs," he said, patting their heads.

Romano breathed a sigh of relief when he realized the potato bastard's annoying brother was out of the way. He was so concentrated on what was going on behind him that he didn't even realize Spain was running towards him in the opposite direction until they'd collided head-on. The flags hit the water. "Shit!" Romano hissed, bending over to pick them up.

Spain, unfortunately, had the same idea at the same time and as he leaned over they conked heads. "Ow!" the Spaniard cried as he straightened up. "Hehe! Careful, Lovi!" When Romano continued going for the flags he quickly kicked them out of the way, towards his own end. "Hahahaha! Look, Lovi! I'm winning!" He lashed his foot out to kick them again, accidentally stepped on one, and lost his balance, nearly squishing Romano as he landed on his bottom. "Look, Lovi, I'm _not_ winning," he sighed as the Italian gathered the flags. He looked for his team members. Austria was being harassed by Hungary. Prussia was fighting off three rambunctious dogs. Italy… he hated to admit it, but there was a reason Team Prussia was allowed to have an extra member. He gulped. It was up to him now.

"Lovi!" he squealed, jumping to his feet. Romano started and whacked him with a flagpole. "OW! Don't be mean… now there's going to be a lump on my head. Hey, hey, I was thinking, you look really cute in your bikini—OW! Seriously, Lovi, please stop that… But really, have you looked at yourself in a mirror? Oh my gosh, that cute little butt of yours, and your belly, and your curves, ahahaha, I'll be having wet dreams for weeks! And," he circled an arm around Romano's waist and cupped his other hand over his breast, "here…"

Romano blushed. "P-pervert!" he cried, taking a swipe at Spain. But the older man was ready this time, and grabbed the weapon before it could get anywhere near his head. Then, while keeping Romano's hands occupied, he rolled the remaining three flags behind him with his foot. He backed up as far as he could and, with one fluid motion, twisted the final one out of his lover's grip, picked up the others, and ran. Romano swore and lunged at him. He missed Spain's shoulders, but he did manage to hook his fingers on his waistband.

It was Spain's turn to scream when he suddenly felt a breeze where he shouldn't have. "LOVIIIIIIIIII!" He transferred the flags to one hand as he desperately tried to cover his privates (upon hearing the scream Hungary had looked up like some wild creature). Romano attacked him. The two thrashed about in the water, each trying to get a hold of the prized possessions. Suddenly they felt a third party's hand seize the pole, and looked up.

"_Ciao_," said Italy, waving as he eased one of the flags out of their grip. Romano jumped forward in an effort to take it back, but instead he flopped uselessly into the water, crushing Spain underneath him. The moment he'd grasped the flag, Italy turned and ran back, waving it over his head. "Yay! I got one!" he beamed. "Doitsu, Doitsu, look! I got one!"

Alas, Germany _did_ look.

The next thing he knew, he was being charged at by a fiercely determined blond, the dogs close behind him. Italy squealed and ran. Hungary blocked his way. In another rare moment of competence, Italy stabbed the flagpole into the ground in front of him and vaulted over her. He stumbled and fell on the other side, but Austria came to the rescue, putting himself between Italy and the crazy perverted woman. "Sorry, I'm going to borrow this," he said, picking up the flag. Then, raising it over his head, he mumbled a short prayer and hurled it like a javelin.

"Preußen Cannon. Shoot! I mean, Viennese Cannon!"

It sailed over Germany's head, making him stop and stare as it whizzed by, and Spain, who had managed to stand up, reached out and caught it. Romano, refusing to give up, clung tenaciously to his waist.

"Tonio! Over here!" Prussia called out as Germany headed toward Spain. "I'll catch th—ow." He rubbed his forehead as he picked up the first one. The second one hit him in the shoulder and he almost didn't grab it in time before Hungary was upon him. "Sorry, you're not beating me this time, Elizabeta!" he crowed as he took off for his team's side. Spain had thrown another flag to Italy and Austria, who had (somehow) both gotten hit and were dazedly following Prussia's lead. He looked down at the last flag in his hand. Then at Romano's hands, which had latched on to the other end.

It all came down to this.

Romano seemed to sense Spain's sudden resolve and desperately tried to twist the flag out of his grip, but Spain was prepared and gave it a hard tug, throwing Romano off-balance. Still, the Italian managed to hold on and regain his bearings. That was when Spain suddenly changed tactics and started molesting him. Romano squeaked and tried to pull away, but to no avail. Eventually, he gave up trying to escape and headed straight for Spain, tackling him with a long-suppressed battle cry. A few moments later, Spain emerged from the heated wrestling match that had ensued, holding the flag triumphantly over his head. "Hooray!" he cheered. "I guess this means we wi—oh…"

In the time it had taken for him to win the fight, Hungary had beaten up Italy and Prussia and stolen their flags.

Romano body-slammed him from behind and wrenched the flag from his hands. Now Hungary had three flags while Romano had the last one.

Team Hungary had won.

"Yayyyyyy Doitsu!" Italy chirped, hugging Germany. He had forgotten that his own team had lost.

"Darn it, this is all your fault!" Prussia yelled at Austria. "I don't know how and frankly I don't care, but it's your fault!"

Maybe the fact that Hungary had spared the Austrian during her butt-kicking had something to do with it. Austria, at least, was relatively bruise-free and his glasses were still intact. He pushed them up higher on his nose and glared condescendingly at Prussia. "I told you to leave me out of the game."

"There, there," said Germany, patting his brother's shoulder, "we'll have some ice cream to cheer you up."

"Ve!" Italy grinned.

Prussia sniffled. "Mattie likes ice cream…"

"Who?"

"I-it's nothing!" He waved his hands frantically, blushing.

Germany raised an eyebrow.

"Yes! Ice cream sounds fantastic!" said Spain as he joined them, carrying Romano on his back. "Right, Lovi?"

"S-sure…"

"Then it's decided! Let's have ice cream!"

They spent the remaining hours of afternoon eating Haagen-Dazs and for the most part everything was peaceful… until Prussia smashed a bowl of ice cream in Austria's face.

* * *

"Ve, I had lots of fun today!" said Italy as he helped Germany unload the car. "How about you, Doitsu?"

"Mhm." Germany closed the trunk and accompanied him inside. "Me too." Romano, after a lot of sweet talk and promises of tomatoes and churros (and more molesting) from Spain, had finally allowed Italy to return home, though he himself was staying at his place for another day to tidy it up. Spain had stayed "to help Lovi out," though Germany suspected the sunny Spaniard had ulterior motives… and speaking of ulterior motives… He closed the front door and locked it. The bolt slid into place with a soft click. Then he took a deep breath.

"Ve, I wonder what we should have for dinner!" Italy mused. He turned to Germany. "Doitsu, what do you th—Doitsu?" Germany was hunched over, his back to Italy. His hands were gripping the doorknob; they were trembling. "D-Doitsu, are you okay?"

Slowly, Germany turned around. Italy gasped at the look in his eye. "Doitsu—"

* * *

**People are depressing when they don't review. * insert Russia's kol face  
**


	15. IKEA Erotica

**I am BACK! Oh my god that took a long time. Sorry about the super super super late update, but I had massive story constipation! I worked it out with a pencil, though. Incidentally, I tried very hard, but things didn't quite work out. And so, I present the crappy Chapter 15: an unhealthy dose of IKEA Erotica followed by an update on what's going on with China. Contains slight mentions of OCs for comedic effect but otherwise safe. I wrote this in a hurry so if there's non-coherence... that's why. Back to intense Math-ing for my exam! D:**

**I write damn good IKEA Erotica. Yes I do. If you TV Trope it you'll find out that might not exactly be a good thing… **

* * *

"Doitsu—"

They stared at each other for a moment, Italy wide-eyed with surprise, Germany blushing awkwardly. Finally, Germany slowly walked up to Italy. Their eyes met. Italy giggled bashfully, faint color rising to his cheeks. Germany smiled and bent down.

Their lips touched, tentatively at first, but then giving way to deep, passionate kissing. Germany pinned Italy to the wall, sweeping a hand down his body, past his voluptuous curves, down to his thigh, lingering briefly on the hem of his shorts before lifting again to caress his cheek, drawing his chin closer as lips came together and tongues mingled. A soft noise escaped from Italy's throat and he arched his back, thrusting his plump, prominent breasts under Germany's face. Germany replied with a low moan and rested his hand on the Italian's sternum. Reluctantly, they tore away from each other, gasping for air. Italy curled his hands around Germany's and gazed up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Doitsu," he breathed as the German held him close. "Doitsu, i-it feels weird…" He shifted his legs uncomfortably.

Germany snaked a hand between his legs. "You mean here?" Italy shuddered and nodded. Germany smirked. Feli's innocent act was really turning him on. He swept the Italian into his arms and carried him off. "Then we'll have to do something about that, won't we?"

Italy's face reddened. "V-ve…"

He laid him gently on the bed and got up to close the curtains. Italy sat up and watched him as he crossed the room, blushingly admiring the German's body, the broad shoulders, those muscular arms partially covered by his T-shirt, that strong, wide back… his eyes drifted down to Germany's ass. He giggled a little when the blond turned around and caught him looking at him. Germany chuckled as he rejoined Italy on the bed, carefully climbing on top of him. "Now then," he said softly, as his fingers found their way to Italy's curl, "where were we?"

Italy squirmed as he fiddled with the hair, twisting it around his finger and gently flicking it back and forth. When Germany gripped it between his teeth he threw his head back with a strangled cry and groped aimlessly at his belly, feeling the heat build in his lower regions but unable to relieve it. Germany teasingly dragged his hands away, eliciting a pleading whine, before pulling his shorts off. There was already a wet stain on Italy's panties. He slipped a hand under his waistband, past the carpet of coarse pubic hair, and circled his finger around Italy's clit. Italy bucked his hips in response to the touch and moaned. Encouraged by the discovery of this sweet spot, Germany press on, rubbing the engorged flesh more vigorously.

He was surprised when a tremor suddenly shot through Italy's body and he jerked away with a gasp. "D-don't," he whimpered, trembling. Germany gave him a questioning look, but Italy avoided his eye, blushing as he turned away with furrowed brow. "Gently," he finally stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Germany exhaled. So it was just that Feliciano was a little sensitive down there, and perhaps troubled by these unfamiliar sensations. He nibbled Italy's ear in apology. It suddenly occurred to him, as he peeled off the Italian's underwear (getting a good look at his glistening wet, swollen pink folds along the way), that he had no idea how to pleasure a woman. He blushed. Now what?

Italy, apparently sensing his hesitation, lifted himself slightly to wrap his arms around Germany's waist. Then, with a grunt of effort, he flipped them over, so that he was now on top, and sat himself leisurely on Germany's stomach. Germany sucked in his breath at the feel of Italy's sex pressed against his abdomen, the warm, thick juices running onto his skin. "F-Feli…" Italy smiled coyly and leaned forward to kiss him.

Germany's hands wandered up to his shirt and he began popping open the buttons, slowly revealing the black bra Italy was wearing underneath. He slid his hands up Italy's flanks, feeling his lover arch his back at his touch, and fumbled briefly with the clasp before managing to get it undone. Italy straightened up and proceeded to strip off the cumbersome clothing, slowly, teasingly, tantalizing him with soft mewls as the fabric slid off his body, raising goosebumps on the exposed skin. Casting his clothes to the side, he lowered himself and let his breasts dangle in front of Germany, the hardened nipples brushing his chest through his shirt, watching his reaction through eyes heavy-lidded with lust. Germany had to stifle a groan as the throbbing in his nether regions intensified. _Gott_, and he thought Feliciano was sexy enough when he was being prudish…

He took a breast in his hand and squeezed it lightly. It was soft and springy, the warm flesh molding perfectly into his palm. Italy moaned as he put both hands on his chest. He fondled them for a while—or rather, Italy let him play with them, before pulling away and turning his attention to the bulge straining at his pants. "Ve, Doitsu's still dressed," the Italian remarked as he struggled to unbuckle Germany's belt, fingers picking clumsily at the metal.

Germany compliantly took off his shirt and unzipped his jeans, which Italy tugged off, along with the briefs underneath. The brunette smirked at the sight of Germany's member standing at attention, drops of precum oozing from the head. He lapped them up, slowly, deliberately, relishing the way his lover's breath hitched in his throat as his tongue swept across the tip, pushing slightly into the hole, evoking a muffled cry when he skimmed his teeth lightly over the sensitive skin. Then, with an air of curiosity, he pushed his breasts together and sandwiched Germany's erection between them.

"Nngh! F-_Feli—!_" Germany could barely contain the howl that ensued as Italy began stroking him with his cleavage. How the hell had he learned to do _this?_ He bucked his hips in rhythm with Italy's strokes. Then again, he didn't suppose he cared. It felt good and Italy looked so cute/hot doing it and _ahhhhhh…_

His thoughts dissolved into a haze of pleasure as Italy lowered his head and took his cock into his mouth. A moan ripped from his throat as he threw his head back and grasped at the bedsheets. His hand slowly groped its way to the bedside table. Italy briefly looked up from his ministrations to see Germany procure a condom from the top drawer.

"Ve," he said, as the German tore open the foil packet, "i-if Doitsu wants to, he can go without…"

Germany smiled and patted his head. "Thanks, but it's better to let you adjust properly to being a woman before you get pregnant, don't you think?"

Italy nodded, blushing a little. Then his eyes lit up. "But we can have a baby?"

"W-well, it's been ten years… and you _do_ seem really enthusiastic about—wahhhh!" Germany started as Italy suddenly jumped on him. "Feli, wha—mmfrnnngh—"

Italy kissed him, smushing their faces together in a passionate show of affection. When they pulled apart, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were glistening. He eased the condom out of Germany's hand and put it on him. Germany loved the feel of those delicate hands as they unrolled the thin latex over his length. When he was done, Italy lifted himself over top of Germany. Then he paused. Confusion crossed his face. "Doitsu… wh-where…"

Germany didn't understand what he meant until he looked down and started prodding at himself. Italy giggled sheepishly as Germany spread him open—a job made harder by the slick fluid drenching his pussy—and guided the tip of his member into his entrance. He slowly lowered himself, until he was sitting on Germany's hips. "Ah… Doitsu…" He shuddered at this feeling of being stretched, painful but pleasurable, foreign and yet familiar at the same time.

He felt Germany's hands on his shoulders, bidding him to lean forward. "Mmnh, Feli," said Germany hoarsely, holding him close, "you feel so good… ah…" It was taking everything he had not to come right there and then, immersed in Feliciano's searing heat, the walls clenching as Italy fidgeted. He pulled the Italian's face towards him and they shared another kiss, shorter this time, tinged with desire and lust and need, before Italy started moving his hips, lifting them slowly and deliberately before letting them fall back down with a sigh. He nuzzled Germany as the latter groaned in ecstasy and stroked the back of his head. "V-ve… I _do_ feel good… b-because of Doitsu…"

Germany grasped Italy by the rump and thrust upwards to meet him, causing the latter to squeal and tremble in his grip. _Gott,_ he loved this so much, Feliciano clamped tightly around his throbbing erection—his breasts rubbing against his chest—fingers clutching his shoulders, the nails digging into his skin—hot breaths tickling his ear—the sounds they were making—if only it would last. But already the tension was building, a needy heat slowly gathering in his pelvis, wetness accumulating at the tip of his penis, his breaths quickening, becoming more frantic. He felt Italy thrashing in his grip as the latter came, whimpering with each wave of strange pleasure that seized him. Germany got up and let him flop onto the mattress, gasping in exhaustion, beads of sweat forming creeping down his head and neck. "Ve," he panted, rolling onto his back. Germany gave him a moment to rest before reentering him, slowly and gently, careful not to hurt his lover. He was at his limit, it would take only a bit more before he came… He looked down at Italy, who was staring up at him through unfocused eyes, still dazed from his own orgasm, at the way his breasts bounced with each thrust, the rise and fall of his stomach as he gasped for breath. He cupped his breasts in his hands. "Feli… Feli—ah!"

Italy felt warmth erupt inside him, Doitsu's seed was pumping into him—no, not inside him, though Doitsu promised they could do that later—the German grunted, then collapsed onto him with a sigh. They lay there for a while, Italy caressing Germany's back, cool and sticky from sweat, until the pounding in their chests subsided and their breathing slowed. "Ve!" Italy chirped, as Germany sat up and pulled off the condom. "It was good! We should do it more often!"

"As if we didn't do it enough before," Germany chuckled. Suddenly he noticed the dogs sitting outside the room, regarding them with what could only be described as a glare. "…Oh. We forgot to feed them, didn't we?"

Italy giggled. "Come to think of it, I'm hungry too!"

"Haha, all right. I'll make dinner tonight; what do you want?"

He tensed when he felt Italy's small hands on his shoulders. "Hehehe, silly Doitsu," said Italy, his voice low and seductive, and Germany gulped as he gave his shoulders an affectionate squeeze, "who said I was hungry for food?"

* * *

China, Hong Kong, Japan and Korea sat around the campfire. No one said a word. The only sounds were the crackling of firewood and the cries of some strange nocturnal creatures. China was scowling like a Guanyin statue as he considered the situation. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Yong Soo, was this your idea of a fun camping trip? Because it's not very 'fun'."

"Aww, really?" Korea put on a hurt look. "You don't like camping in the open air like in an American cartoon?"

"Actually, that's not what's bothering me," China growled. "What's really bugging me is" he waved a hand at his surroundings, "what the _hell_ happened to our provisions?"

Japan covered his ears.

"But the white water rafting was fun too! Didn't you say so yourself?"

"It was fine… UNTIL YOU WENT AND [BEEP]ING CAPSIZED EVERYONE!"

Hong Kong shifted away from China as the latter started yelling.

"I can't believe this! How dare you drag us to the middle of nowhere and expect us to go along with your crazy plans! Where the hell are we, anyway?" He looked around.

Korea gulped. "S-somewhere in the Amazon rainforest, I think…"

China slowly turned to him. "You," he said, and the magnitude of his ire finally hit home as Korea hurriedly hid behind Japan, "took us to _a whole 'nother [BEEP]ing CONTINENT?_" He buried his face in his hands. "Oh my god… how are we going to get out of here… how am I supposed to explain this to Brazil…"

"Actually, um," Korea pointed out, "if we follow the river, we'll be crossing the border tomorrow…"

China blinked. "So we're not in Brazil. Yet."

"Mhm…"

"Then where is this? What's to the west of Brazil…?"

"Today," Ecuador mused as he loaded his shotgun, "I have to investigate some strange noises in the woods. Please don't let it be more Dora the Explorers again."

"Today," Peru muttered as he watched his brother's antics from the balcony, "I get to arrest the banana bastard for trespassing. Please let him finish investigating first, though."

* * *

**Ecuador = "banana bastard" because (surprise, surprise) here in Vancouver we get bananas from Ecuador. Peru and Ecuador had major territorial disputes in the past, hence the trespassing thing. Oh yeah, and the Dora the Explorer thing just means pathetically weak and whiny adventurers who shouldn't even be out in the woods by themselves, let alone, well... exploring.**

**Woot IKEA Erotica. Sweden would be proud. I should write a lemon for him and Finland. IKEA Erotica style. XD  
**

**In Austria there's a town called Fucking. They hang up a sign stating the town name, and then, underneath that they say (intended for traffic): "Not so fast, please."  
In Germany there's a town called Kissing. It is 183km by car from Kissing to Fucking. And Petting is somewhere in between.  
**

**The next chapter will be out in June because I have exams now! Math is a real killer. I hate math. I hate calculus. I hate vectors. I hate complex numbers. I hate statistics and probability. And so, I shall now go and intensely Math so I can get a good mark and laugh in my (evil!) math teacher's face. **

**See you!  
**


	16. Doitsu, what's a period? D:

**All my exams are done! Hooray! And after tomorrow I can write my fics in (relative) peace for a while! Double hooray! ^_^**

* * *

China glowered at South Korea. "I hate you."

The Korean sent him an apologetic look. Behind him, Japan let out an uncharacteristically girly scream as he withdrew his arm from the water only to find the sleeve missing.

Hong Kong was kicking at the little red-and-silver fish as they swarmed around them. "Like, are we there yet?" he demanded, his voice rising a little when one of the fish chomped on his toe.

"I hope so," China muttered. "Ugh, trust Yong Soo to come up with the idea of wading through piranha-infested waters."

* * *

In the morning, England tried again. China still wasn't home. Finally, he gave up and completely skipped the middleman.

"Ve~"

It didn't surprise he to hear Italy's voice so high-pitched and feminine, but what really caught him off-guard was his tone. Instead of being the usual happy chirp, it was low and breathy, almost like he was—no, never mind. England blushed.

"Oh. I-Italy. How are you?"

"Hi England~! Ve, I'm—ahhh…—fine. You?"

"Um…" That sounded strangely… sexual. "I—I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Ve~~~~. Nope!"

England could feel his face heating up. "R-right then. I called because I have a theory about how you and your brother got like th—wh-what on earth are you doing?" he sputtered. Italy had just interrupted him with a soft moan.

"Hmm? Nothing… Ah, Doitsu…"

There was a short interval of scuffling and mumbling and when the voice from the other end came it was Germany's. "Hello England. Sorry about Feli, apparently I'm doing a really good job massaging his shoulders but he's telling me in a, um, strange way. What did you want to talk to us about?"

"I think I've found the cause for Italy and Romano's transformation," said England, feeling slightly embarrassed at having thought that Italy was—um. "Have you done anything recently involving, well, shooting stars?"

Germany blinked. "England, if this is another one of your fairy-fueled delusions—"

"It's not! If you don't believe me, go and have a look at the constellations tonight. There's an extra star, apparently because one of you lot made a wish. Well, did you?"

"Come to think of it, Spain did…"

"Aha. So that's it then. Well, I'd offer to change them back, but unfortunately, there's nothing I know of that could, and quite frankly, I think you should just let whatever Spain wished for run its course and the magic will go away by itself. And—bloody hell! It's the Queen again. Sorry, I've got to go…" England facepalmed. What did that chatty old crone want _now?_

"No problem. Thanks for informing us."

"You can repay me by punching America in the face. Cheerio!" There was a click as he hung up.

Germany put down the phone, and it suddenly occurred to him to wonder how England of all people had heard of this. Oh well, it wasn't like he was going to blackmail them with this, or stalk them and take a bunch of racy pictures, like France might.

"Ve," Italy piped up, "my stomach feels weird…"

"Maybe you ate too much for breakfast," said Germany. "What, do you want a tummy rub too?"

"Ve~!" Italy perked up at his suggestion. "But first I'm going to the bathroom." He jumped up from the couch and trotted off.

Germany sighed. A shooting star, huh? He didn't know those things had this kind of power. But, what was it that Spain had wished for anyway? Germany tried to recall.

He blanched as the Spaniard's words ran through his mind:

"_Dear wishing star, I want Germany and Feliciano and Lovi and me to be able to start a family."_

Oh dear.

D-did that mean what Germany thought it meant? That he and Feli had to… to… _N-nein!_ That couldn't be it…

Just when he thought things couldn't get more awkward, the bathroom door opened and Italy poked his head out. Germany was immediately on full alert. Even if he couldn't see Feliciano's face from where he was sitting, he knew from the fact that the Italian wasn't happily returning to him that something was wrong. A moment later, Italy's timid voice confirmed his suspicions. "V-ve… um, Doitsu…"

"What's wrong?" Germany stood up. He heard a whiny noise escape from Italy's throat as he debated over whether or not to tell the German. Finally, though, he spoke, and Germany felt his stomach clench when he heard what he said:

"Th-there's blood…"

* * *

It had taken a full minute for Italy's statement to register in Germany's mind. Then it had taken another for him to work his way back to a standing position after collapsing on the couch, and two more to walk unsteadily up to Italy, his legs numb with shock.

From there, it had taken nearly a whole half-hour to calm Italy and explain what was going on. And just when Italy seemed to understand, he'd looked down and freaked out at the sight of the (slightly bigger) stain on his clothes. Germany had to restrain him by force until the wailing and hiccoughing finally subsided. "Now," he said, as the Italian squirmed in his grip, "I want you to stay put until I figure out how to deal with this. You can do at least that much, right?" Italy nodded. Germany released him and staggered to the phone.

Luckily, he managed to catch Hungary right as she was leaving her house, though deep down he would've preferred it if she'd already left. He didn't enjoy talking to her about Italy; every time she brought up the subject her eyes twinkled with some strange sadism and Germany felt the sudden urge to run for the (mole)hills and bury his head in one. And to made matters worse, he had to talk to her about _that._ That crazy woman must've been trying so hard not to laugh as she listened to Germany stumble and stutter repeatedly while trying to convey the fact that _verdammt_, Italy was frickin' _bleeding_ from his _vital regions_ and what the hell? _Why_ was she not taking this seriously? He was just about to hang up in frustration when she quickly said, "I sent Italy some tampons with the clothes I lent him."

"Thank. You." Germany hung up before he could hear her giggling again.

Italy looked up curiously when Germany returned, his face glowing bright red like a neon sign. In his hand was some odd plastic-wrapped stick. "H-here," he said, stuffing it awkwardly into Italy's hand. There was an ugly churning feeling in his stomach and the room felt way too hot. He glanced at Italy, expecting him to smile and/or nod and/or just do _something_ to relieve the situation, but all he saw was a pair of warm brown eyes looking up at him expectantly. He gulped. Here it came…

"Ve," said Italy, holding up the tampon, "how do I use this?"

* * *

Romano turned off the water and swept his hair out of his eyes. There was nothing like a nice shower to start the day. Especially when a certain tomato bastard tried to grope him again this morning. He grimaced at the recollection. Hadn't that idiot gotten the hint last night when Romano refused to share a bed with him? But no, Spain was at it again this morning, touching Romano inappropriately and trying to undress him. A dark look crossed his face. That fucker. He would make sure Spain paid for his impudence later.

He pulled back the shower curtain and stuck an arm out, swearing as his fingers came into contact with cold metal slick with condensation.

There was no towel.

Romano stood there, not quite sure of what to do. Damn it, why hadn't he thought to check beforehand? Now he was stuck here, shivering from the draft blowing in under the door, with no clothes and a h-horny S-S-Spain prowling around outs-s-side… He blushed.

He thought about wiping himself with his bathrobe, then remembered he had nothing else to wear. And he sure as hell wasn't leaving that bathroom in a wet bathrobe. He groaned, then sneezed. This was getting ridiculous.

Maybe Spain was all the way on the other end of the house. Romano decided to risk it. Tiptoeing to the door, he unlocked it and opened it a crack, peering out warily.

So far so good. Romano quickly darted into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

He was buttoning his shirt when Spain suddenly came in. Romano squealed and quickly crossed his arms over his chest. Spain though, seemed not to notice, at least until he fully registered what the Italian was doing. "S-sorry," he mumbled sheepishly as hazel eyes locked indignantly on him. "I-I was looking for my slippers. Um, I'll be going now…" The door closed with a quiet click.

A moment later, it suddenly burst open again. "Lovi, you're not wearing anything under your shirt?"

Romano jumped as though electrified. "B-bastard!" he shrieked, turning his back to him. "Wh-what gives you the right to—to—Wh-what do you care anyway?" He felt his face grow hot. God, that sick pervert—! He charged at Spain, only to be seized by the wrists and ogled by the Spaniard. Spain giggled as Romano thrashed about in an attempt to break free.

"Oh, Lovino!" he chirped, and Romano tensed at the use of his first name. "Of _course_ I care! How can I _not_ care when you're standing there looking so cute and pretty and… and…" his eyes glazed over and Romano's efforts to escape immediately increased tenfold, "_hot…_" Romano brought his elbows together to cover himself, but his breasts got in the way and he ended up pushing them together instead, which only made Spain even more turned on. He leaned forward and nuzzled the Italian's cleavage (Romano yelped at the roughness of his coarse stubble). The two tumbled onto the bed, and a suddenly desperate Romano somehow found the strength to hurl the Spaniard off him and shove him at the door. Spain, admitting defeat, stumbled out of the room, laughing and apologizing as Romano slammed the door in his face. Finally rid of his nuisance, the Italian slumped against the door with a sigh. _Damn_ that bastard. Damn him to—

"Hey, Lovino."

Romano froze. What the hell, why was he still there? He whirled around, ready to give the damn _cazzo_ a piece of his mind, but Spain continued speaking. "Lovino, are you feeling better?"

He snorted. "What the hell? I haven't been sick." He kept his back pressed to the door, in case Spain decided to jump in and attack him again.

"About yourself, I mean." There was a thud and a rustle as Spain leaned on the other side of the door. "Are you still embarrassed about your body?"

Romano's expression darkened. Was he? Somewhere between today and Thursday he seemed to have mellowed out and simply accepted these changes in his appearance. He'd stopped turning his eyes to the ceiling every time he undressed, or wearing unnecessarily bulky clothing to hide his figure. It didn't mean he was comfortable enough yet to let Spain see him naked—though, it was nice that Spain was asking this before forcing anything upon him. Romano tipped his head back and sighed.

"N-not as much."

He couldn't see the Spaniard, but guessed that he was probably smiling. "That's good. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay—not, uh, having a mental breakdown or anything." He paused.

"Lovino?"

"What?"

"Can we have sex?"

Romano blushed. "S-sure."

"Now?"

He groaned. Curse Spain! But then again, he wasn't entirely against it… "Fine," he growled. "But the shirt stays. A-and you have to go shave first." He rubbed a hand over his sternum. Nothing was worse than getting scraped with scraggly bits of hair in a particularly vulnerable spot.

"Done and… about to be done." Romano heard Spain get up. "Oh yeah, and one more thing."

"What now?"

"Your legs are really shapely!" With that, Spain hurried off, giggling like an idiot. It took Romano a few seconds to realize that he hadn't been wearing pants the whole time.

"Spain, you son of a bitch!" he snarled, pausing only long enough to wrap a towel around his waist before running after him. Oh ho ho, that Spanish bastard was _really_ going to get it this time. And not in the fun way, either.

* * *

Germany rested his head on his hands, his brow knitted so tightly it was putting sweaters to shame. Beside him, Italy squirmed uncomfortably, partly because of his cramps, partly due to the subject at hand. Finally Germany said, "You can't go to work tomorrow. Not like this."

"Ve," Italy countered, "but the boss sounded really really mad on Friday! Besides, I can't leave Nii-chan there by himself!"

Germany sighed and went back to his brow-Gordian-knotting. How was he supposed to let Italy go to work when he couldn't even take care of himself properly? He doubted a moody, whining, cramping Italy would lessen the president's wrath any more than an absent Italy. Besides, wasn't his workplace full of… men? Young, single men.

_Italian _men.

Germany shook his head. Feli didn't stand a chance. There was only one way out of this. "Italia!" he suddenly barked, causing Italy to cry out and scramble away from him. "It's decided. You can go to work tomorrow!"

"Ve, really? Yaaaaaaa—"

"I'm coming with you!"

"Whaaaaaaa…?"

* * *

**Somehow, the "In Soviet Russia" thing came to my mind concerning buses. In America, you take the bus, yes? In Soviet Russia, the bus takes you... to the place where you want to go. I actually sort of found a case where it works both ways! :O**


	17. Italy at Work

**Hey guys. It's been a while. D:**

**Sorry I took so long to update. A bunch of... stuff happened. And I was going to save this until I'd finished writing the next chapters for all of my fics, and then have an update-fest, but last night I had a nightmare about one of you coming to kill me because it was taking so damn long, so... y-yeah. Pl-please don't really kill me... **

* * *

**Hooray, a disclaimer that's actually not redundant, for once. This one has to do with Italy and Romano's boss. I was really hoping not to use a name, but due to issues with the rhetoric I ended up using one anyway. The figure known as "Italy's boss" is not meant to reflect any real politicians, past or present. I wanted a sort of comical outtake on this guy, and I'm pretty sure the real Berlusconi isn't like this, so just imagine a half-bald plump guy in his place… or something. "Italy's boss" is not meant to insult Italians or the Italian government, so please have a sense of humour about this…**

**In short, the mistake is not in writing Berlusconi as a goof, it's in calling this goof I've made up, "Berlusconi." 'Kay~? ^^**

* * *

Silvio Berlusconi was about as happy as a boy who'd received My Little Ponies for Christmas. In fact, Romano mused, the look on his boss's face was exactly like the one he himself had had that time America sent him the exploding pie. (Said American was later seen head-walling in frustration after hearing England's voicemail thanking him for the wonderful pasta.) He took a sip of coffee and waited while Berlusconi gathered his thoughts. Beside him, Italy was huddled in his chair, hugging his knees to his chest while making weird whimpering noises. Germany (bah, why'd the potato bastard have to show up too?) sat in the corner with his arms folded. Berlusconi looked from Romano to Italy to Germany to the aspirin bottle on the shelf and back again. Finally, he spoke. "This… how exactly did this happen, again?"

"England said it was 'cause of a shooting star," Italy replied, turning to Germany, who nodded in confirmation. "Ve, I thought shooting stars were supposed to be good!"

"Well, apparently you thought wrong," Romano muttered under his breath. Berlusconi just sighed and buried his face in his hands.

"Ve, please don't be mad at us, boss…" Italy gave him a kicked-puppy look.

"I'm—not. Not yet, at least," he said, disdainfully eyeing the brothers' sloppy attire. "Now, why don't you two go and—and file paperwork or something? I've got a lot on my plate as it is." Without waiting for them to reply, he ushered them to the door and hurriedly closed it behind them. Then, with a sigh, he massaged his temples in an attempt to stave off the migraine he felt coming. "Good lord, what is going on with the world these days?"

"Um, sir…"

He whirled around and almost had a heart attack when he found himself staring into a grumpy-looking German face. "_DIO MIO!_ I'm sorry! Don't hurt me! What do you want?" he blurted, cowering against the wall. Then, when he'd gotten over the initial shock, "Haven't you ever heard of personal space?"

Germany blinked. "Oh. Sorry," he mumbled, backing away awkwardly when he realized how uncomfortable he was making the prime minister.

Berlusconi coughed. "A-anyway, why are you still here? Aren't you going with Feliciano?"

"Actually…" Now it was Germany's turn to look uncomfortable. He really didn't like talking about such matters, but it would have to be done sooner or later, and since he was here already, he might as well get it over with. He cleared his throat. "Well, sir…

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you…"

* * *

Romano and Italy stood by the door, looking uncertainly at each other. Italy opened his mouth. "Ve—"

"Don't—even—say it," Romano growled, crossing his arms over his chest. Damn that stupid Spain for making him wear this stupid bra! As though he wasn't self-conscious enough as it was! Still, he supposed, it was better than having his nipples show through his shirt—wait, why was he agreeing with the tomato bastard? "A-anyway," he mumbled, feeling his face grow warm, "I guess we should get—huh? What's wrong?" Italy's eyes had gone as wide as dinner plates and he was whimpering again as he fidgeted in distress. "Feli, are you okay?"

Without warning, Italy seized him by the shoulders and started babbling hysterically.

"GYAAAAAAAAHHHH! WHAT THE HELL, VENEZIANO!"

"N-Nii-chan! Help me! I-it's coming out! My blood is coming out! I'm s-scared!"

"Your WHAT? WHAT?"

"Veeeeeee, it's all warm and gross and stuff! Wh-what if it leaks? I don't want Japan's flag on my undies! Ve, what should I do?"

"Wha—wha—"

"Do I go to the men's room or the women's?"

Romano stood there, stunned, his jaw hanging agape in astonishment. "Wh—"

"Ve, Nii-chan, come with me, I don't wanna go there alone!" He grabbed Romano's hand and started dragging him in the direction of the restroom.

"Whuh… I don't… What on earth… B-blood?..."

* * *

Berlusconi coughed. "You want to what?"

A flustered Germany struggled to repeat himself. "I-I want—er, that is, F-Feli and I—we—um—"

"Never mind, never mind; I heard you the first time." The prime minister leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "Oh, you nations… I swear, you're becoming more and more human every day. First marriage, and now…" A dejected look crossed Germany's face. "I'm not saying you can't! It's just…" He sighed again. "Look, having children is a huge responsibility. Feliciano just doesn't seem like the kind of person who'd be able to handle it." He paused. "Mentally or physically."

"Wh-what do you mean, sir?"

"I'm saying I couldn't care less about his childish idiocy—he's improved over the years, you seem to be a good influence on him—but having a baby would put a lot of strain on his body. Perhaps too much, especially with the economic crisis right now." He looked Germany in the eye. "I just don't want him to put his health on the line, that's all. I really think you should give this a lot of thought before deciding to do anything."

Germany nodded. "I understand."

"Remember, I haven't disagreed," Berlusconi continued, dropping his formal tone of voice. "What you do from here on is entirely up to you. But you'll be sure to tell me the good news, _si?_" He grinned. Germany's blush deepened. "_Va bene_, Signore Beilschmidt, if you'll excuse me, I have a ton of work to get through today. I'm glad we had this talk, though." He began ruffling through a stack of papers on his desk. "…Signore Beilschmidt?"

"Yes?"

"Those idiot brothers have been awfully quiet. That usually means they've landed themselves in some kind of trouble. Would you mind keeping an eye on them?"

Germany sighed as he headed for the door. "No, sir. That's why I came here today, after all…"

* * *

"Oh," said Romano. "_That_ blood."

"V-ve," came Italy's voice from the bathroom stall. "Sorry…"

"You should be, jerk," Romano huffed, folding his arms. "You could've just told me you were h-having your p-p-period..." He gulped. "I-instead of screaming in my ear like a moron." _Right,_ he thought. _And bringing me all the way here without explaining what the hell was going on. And then deciding you were too good for the women's side, and making me chase out all the men that were in here. And _then_ having me stand outside here as though I have nothing better to do than make sure poor ickle Veneziano doesn't get peeped on while he does… does… wh-whatever he's doing. _He paced around outside the cubicle, muttering oaths under his breath.

"B-but Doitsu told me not to tell anyone," Italy protested. Then, more cautiously, "Ve, are you mad at me?"

"Of course I am! Now hurry up or I'll kick the damn door down!" He banged on the door to emphasize his point, eliciting a frantic squeal from Italy.

"I'm hurrying! I'm hurrying!" The toilet flushed, and a moment later the younger nation emerged, a disturbed expression on his face. Romano scowled as his brother sent him a strange look while washing his hands.

"What now?"

"…Nii-chan, y-you're not having yours?"

"Huh?"

Italy looked away awkwardly. "Your, um… you know…"

Romano's face turned red. "Well—no," he mumbled, suddenly finding the tiles on the floor very interesting. "Sh-should I be?"

"W-well…"

There was a pregnant pause. The brothers stared at each other uncomfortably. A full minute passed, the silence broken only by the sound of water from the tap.

Finally, Italy said in a small voice, "L-let's go do work, ve?"

Romano nodded jerkily. "Y-yeah." His blush deepened. "Please."

As he and Italy headed back outside (Italy looking a little more deflated than usual), he couldn't help but cast a suspicious glance down at his stomach. His brow furrowed.

…_Goddamnit, Antonio._

* * *

To Germany's surprise, Italy wasn't the cranky, whiny wreck he thought he'd be. In fact, apart from being a little gloomier than usual, he barely seemed affected at all—except for a certain reluctance to get up from his seat, but then again, Germany wouldn't be so keen on standing up either if he kept feeling warm wet stuff between his legs. The Italian spent his morning chattering incessantly to Romano (who, judging by the weird way he kept looking at him, had probably found out about Italy's, er, condition) while the two sorted out paperwork. "Ve, Doitsu, look what I found! It's boss's pictures he took while he was on vacation!"

"Good grief, put that away!" Romano snapped, snatching the photos from him. "Don't you have better things to do than giggle at someone's photos of… him in a tacky Hawaiian shirt… screaming his head off on a roller coaster…" He riffled through the pictures, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "Pretending to lean against Big Ben… canoeing… throwing paper airplanes from the Eiffel Tower…"

"Ve! Here's one of him on a camel!"

"Psh, camels are boring. Look at this! He's tanning on the beach at Thailand's place!"

"That's boring too, ve!"

Germany sighed. "Shouldn't you two be doing work?"

"Ew! He's picking his nose in this one!"

"Ve, let me see!"

"…Or not." Germany facepalmed.

Eventually, their sneak glimpse into their boss's personal life was cut short when the prime minister himself stormed in and confiscated the offending photos, trying not to appear too embarrassed when Romano made snide remarks about his Superman pose in front of the Parthenon. Italy tried to hug him in apology—which only ended up with an even more flustered Berlusconi and a comment from Italy about how his breasts were sore—would Doitsu please massage them after work? At which point Germany blushingly mumbled something and pretended not to hear, Romano smacked his brother on the head for saying that so publicly, and Berlusconi… apparently vanished into thin air.

They were having lunch in the courtyard when a group of men (and here Germany immediately went on full alert) came by. "Feliciano! Lovino!" one of them greeted, as Romano gasped and turned his body away from them. "Hey! We heard about what happened. Are you guys doing okay?"

"Ve!" Italy chirped. "Of course I'm fine!" Romano just sent them an ugly look.

"Haha, well, that's good!" The man caught Germany's eye and gave a small wave. Germany inclined his head in reply. "Actually, we were just talking about how we haven't had a proper conversation with you two in such a long time! You don't come to work very often, after all. But hey, since you're here: we're heading to Alberto's after work today. If you want to, you can join us, and we'll catch up over a drink or two! What do you say?" He looked at Germany and Romano. "Signore Beilschmidt? Lovino?"

A dark look crossed Romano's face. "I have… business to take care of," he mumbled, looking strangely perturbed. "Sorry."

"But it sounds fun!" said Italy. He turned to Germany. "And Doitsu likes beer, right?"

Germany didn't like where this was going one bit. He thought about flat-out refusing their offer, but those were Feli's colleagues, after all, and he didn't want to seem like a control freak by making Italy's decision for him. Still, he wondered if he should remind Feliciano of all the reasons he shouldn't go… like the fact that he would draw stares in his ill-fitting uniform… or that he'd end up doing something unladylike, like flirt with other girls… not to mention, he was on his period… goodness knew what kind of complications _that_ would bring…

He snapped to attention as Italy turned to him. Silently, he prayed that Feli would miraculously have one of those rare Moments of Actual Common Sense and realize why going would be a bad idea. O-or maybe becoming female would somehow magically make him think more responsibly (fat chance; wasn't that an American stereotype?). This last hope promptly took a running leap out the window when the Italian suddenly started grinning like a five-year-old being offered a lollipop.

"Ve, let's go drinking tonight!"

Germany facepalmed. _Ohhhhh crap._

* * *

**Still scared of you guys, s-so I'll refrain from s-saying anything. o_o**_  
_


End file.
